Touched by an Angel
by TearStainedAshes
Summary: In a world with guardian angels, Sherlock Holmes is the Guardian to John Watson. Not that either of them are happy about it at first. They soon grow close, and start a dangerous relationship together. Their love is tested through trials and tribulations, but will it prevail? Winglock AU with eventual Mpreg, Rape/Non-Con elements, & character "death". Written with InvisibleBlade.
1. Saving a Life

Hello everyone! This here is a Wing!lock AU. A guardian angel AU to be precise. This is another RP of mine with InvisibleBlade :) So if you liked our first story together, _Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust_, you'll probably like this one too. If you didn't like our first story, then you might not like this one. It has angst, feels, angst, smut, and did I mention angst? So be prepared for all of that.

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock  
Me: John, John's mum

No warnings for the introductory chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Everyone has one. At some point in their lives they will show up and everything becomes infinitely better. They gain a friend, confidant, brother, sister, what have you. But they only arrive when they are needed most.

_They_ are guardian angels.

It was common knowledge by now that everyone was guaranteed an angel. There were books about them in libraries across the world, explaining what their purpose was and what they could and could not do.

The four biggest rules were:

1) your guardian angel only showed up when you needed him or her most  
2) once your angel has showed up they remain with you for life (though they are able to leave and return to Heaven if need be)  
3) angels are treated with the utmost respect at all times, grounded or otherwise  
4) an angel is grounded when they have a) failed to guard their human; b) upset God or broken a rule of Heaven; or c) fallen in love with a human or have sexual relations with a human.

Falling for a human was one of the worst things an angel can do. Angel-human relationships other than platonic were strictly forbidden. Though many an angel have fallen for a human, reports of grounded angels have diminished over the last few years. However, more and more angels were arriving to help teenagers seeing as times were harder for them now with all the pressure to grow up and do well in school and hold a steady job and go to university. Which is where one John Hamish Watson comes in.

John was your average British teenager. He worked hard to please his parents, had a reasonable social life, and even managed to secure a spot in medical school two years ahead of time. He was smart, a tad small for his age, and was much more tan than he had any need to be. Overall he had a nice life, a happy life with his parents and sister. The only problem? The bullies.

They picked on him because of his size, his weight, his sister's bedding habits, anything they could get their hands on. John hated it. He was sick of it all. Then they started making things up and people at school stopped talking to him. He still had Mike and Bill, and thank God for Mary. He'd be a wreck without her. But he still couldn't stand what the bullies said. He was sick and tired of it all, he wanted it to end. But if the rumours wouldn't stop, then John would just have to take things into his own hands.

He'd made plans. Sure, he was taking the coward's way out, but his angel had yet to show up, so either he didn't have one or his life had to get much worse in order to get one. After the sex rumours started (which were completely ridiculous seeing as he was still a virgin) he decided enough was enough. He went home and pulled out the box he'd prepared from under his bed. He set the note on his pillow and loaded his father's 'borrowed' pistol. He sat in his desk chair and closed his eyes, thinking of his beautiful mother as he pressed the gun underneath his chin.

'I'm so sorry, Mum,' he whispered. 'I love you.'

Sherlock didn't want to be anyone's angel. He hated the idea of being tied to someone for the rest of his existence. He wanted to be able to live and to be able to do something other than protect a ridiculous human being.

Instead, he found himself forced down to Earth to a kid who was minutes away from killing himself.

_Great, I get a bloody suicidal one,_ Sherlock thought bitterly.

He grabbed the gun from the boy's hand and smacked it to the ground with an audible thud. His arms wrapped around him tightly and his thick, raven black wings curled around the boy's body, acting like a form of shock blanket.

'It's OK,' he said softly, not wanting to scare the blonde haired boy. 'I've got you.'

John's eyes snapped open and he looked up at the angel that had saved him. Bright blue – no, green – no, now they're grey – no, blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, dark curls on his head, long and lean and... Oh my god those wings. John swallowed as he stared at the beautiful raven black wings that surrounded him. He reached out to stroke one of the feathers and he instantly melted into the chair, the softness of the feather unexpected but entirely welcome. He smiled softly up at the angel.

'Thank you,' he hummed, still stroking the feather. 'I was beginning to wonder if I actually had an angel or not. So, thank you.'

Sherlock's cool eyes studied the blonde haired boy with a calm regard. 'Everyone has an angel assigned to them. You, John Watson, are no different.' He released him and carefully stepped away from him. 'And, unfortunately, I'm yours.'

'Unfortunately?' John asked softly, turning to look at the angel. He was trying to determine an age. He looked like he could have been a teenager but he also looked like he was eternally twenty five. It was hard to tell with angels, and it was extremely rude for humans to ask. Instead, the angel would tell their human when they had either bonded or gained a strong level of trust. It was weird how the two didn't coincide, but that's just how it was.

'Oh, don't be like that,' Sherlock sighed, exasperated. 'It's not just you that I despise. I hate every human being with my every fibre. I'll just have to put up with you I guess.'

'Why do you hate us?' John asked, still stuck to his chair. If his angel didn't want to be here then maybe he didn't want John near him. 'Are we really that... disgusting to you?'

Sherlock snorted. 'You're all idiots!' he exclaimed. 'You do not observe the world around you. I mean look at you. You were going to kill yourself over rumours. When in due fact you have a wonderful family who cares for you. Not that I encourage caring, mind you. Caring isn't an advantage, or that's what my older brother says. But he would have been right. You were going to abandon your family, and your whole future.'

'Not all of them were rumours,' John mumbled, looking away. 'A lot were true. And they were about my family. So... Well, now that I think about it, maybe killing myself wouldn't have helped them. It would have just made everything worse. So... thanks, for saving me.'

'You are welcome.' Sherlock's brow pinched together. 'Or at least I think that's the phrase I am searching for.'

'Yeah. That's right.' John still didn't stand. Not that he was afraid to, he just didn't want to move. 'So, um, what's your name?'

'Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.' Sherlock smirked smugly and gave John a wink. John blushed slightly and cleared his throat.

'Nice to meet you, Sherlock. I'm John. But you already knew that.'

'Mmm,' Sherlock hummed and circled John. 'I know everything about you. From the amount of hairs on your body to the fact you wish to join the army but have killed that dream because of your height, weight, and overall stature. I know that you're sexually confused. I know that you smoke. I know that you binge and that you starve yourself. I know that you cut and I know that this isn't the first time you truly planned on dying.'

'Can you read my mind?' John asked softly, staring at Sherlock with wide eyes. 'Is that how you know all that?'

Sherlock snorted. 'No. Not at all. I deduced it all. There are rumours of angels that can have telepathic conversations with the ones that they are bonded with. But those angels fell... in love with their assigned humans.' He wrinkled his nose up in distaste. The word 'love' made him cringe internally.

'Oh. I wouldn't worry about falling in love with me. The girl I like doesn't even know I exist, so I think you'll be fine. I think all you'll ever be to me is a really good friend.' He sighed and finally managed to stand, stretching slightly. 'Plus I'm not gay, so no worries,' he added almost as a second thought. He glanced back up at his angel and smiled softly.

'So... What do we do now? I've only ever met two angels in my life and I don't really know how to act around you guys.'

'Well, this is my first time on Earth. First time meeting a human even. What do you mundane people do to stop you from getting so... bored?' Sherlock sighed and rolled his shoulders, as though he had the weight of the world on them and was trying to shrug it off.

'Well, we go for walks sometimes. We read or watch telly or go to the cinema. Sometimes we hang out with our friends and do whatever.' John shrugged and approached Sherlock slowly. The boy-man-whatever twitched slightly and his wings opened a tad, the feathers ruffling in agitation.

'Are you OK?' John asked. 'You seem stressed.'

'Just... keep your distance,' Sherlock hissed. 'Don't touch me. Don't even... Just don't.'

'Oh. OK. Um...' John stepped back and Sherlock relaxed slightly. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's fine.' Sherlock blew out a breath of relief. 'Now, shall we go on one of those walk things?'

'Um, yeah. Sure. It's kinda cold out though. Do you want a jacket or anything?'

'I'll be fine. My wings keep me nice and toasty.' Sherlock flicked his wings out and smiled.

'Right. Yeah. OK,' John stammered, staring at Sherlock's gorgeous wings.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'You like my wings,' he stated.

'What?' John glanced back up at Sherlock's face and swallowed. 'Oh. Yes. They're quite... extraordinary. They're very... I don't really want to say beautiful but that's the only word coming to mind. Your wings are absolutely beautiful.'

Sherlock grinned and stretched his wings out to their impressive full span. He watched John carefully. 'Blown pupils, increased heart rate, uneven breathing... oh. You're aroused. How brilliant. I've been assigned to a silly human who sees me in a sexual light. Please calm yourself down.'

'I... I am not!' John stammered. 'I'm not gay!'

'Hmm. And yet that erection of yours speaks for itself,' Sherlock sighed.

'Shut up,' John snarled, sliding his hands over his jeans to cover himself up. 'I just like your wings is all. I'm not attracted to you in the slightest.'

'So you're attracted to my wings, not me myself.' Sherlock sighed again.

'I... I didn't say that!' John screeched. 'I'm not a bloody Winger!'

'Say that without an erection in your trousers. Maybe then you'll convince me that you're not a Winger.'

'I'm not!' John yelled.

'Jonathan?' a woman's voice said from outside his bedroom door. 'Are you quite alright?'

'Shit. It's my mum. She can't know I got my guardian angel because I was about to commit suicide. It'll kill her. Can you hide or something? I don't want her to know.'

Sherlock sighed heavily. Silly human. 'I shall see you out there.' He opened a window and dropped out of it, his wings flapping majestically as he took off into flight. John stared after him and watched him fly away. But if he disappeared too far how was he supposed to find him? His mum's voice quickly broke him out of his thoughts and he moved to open the door.

'Hi Mum. Sorry. I'm fine. I was just shouting at my computer. It's not cooperating with me today.'

'Oh. Well, OK,' she smiled softly. 'If you aren't busy, we'll be having lunch soon.'

'Actually I was about to go have lunch with a friend,' John said smoothly. 'But I'll be home in time for dinner.'

'OK sweetie. Have fun.' She kissed the top of his head and John hugged her. She went back downstairs and John thrust on his jacket before going outside. Thank god his erection disappeared before he opened the door. He would have hated to explain that to his mum. He walked down to the local park and sat on a bench. Maybe if he couldn't find Sherlock, Sherlock would find him.

* * *

So there's the introductory chapter. What did you think? Reviews are always appreciated :)

Just for reference, a Winger is a human who is not only attracted to angels, but has sexual relations with angels.

I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but maybe over the weekend. I move back into my dorm on Sunday the 12th, one week before the S3 premiere in America. InvisibleBlade has been itching to discuss the series with me, but I'm waiting to watch it with my friends at Uni, so she's dying because she can't talk about it. Hehehe. But the wait is killing me too. Just a week and a half to go and I'll be sitting in front of my TV watching The Empty Hearse!

Until the next chapter!

TSA + IB


	2. Connections

Hello everyone! Happy Saturday. Enjoy the weekend while you can. The final episode of Series 3 airs tomorrow night. From what I've heard you'll want plenty of shock blankets and tissues handy.

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock  
Me: John, shop owner, random hospital staff

There are no warnings for this chapter except for maybe some feels. Enjoy!

* * *

'Earth is a strange place,' Sherlock mused out loud as he came to land behind John. 'And you are a very strange human being.' He observed John carefully. 'You are full of doubts and self hatred, and you're unbelievably insecure. And yet, at the same time, you are grounded and down-to-Earth. You seem caught between sadness, anger, and peace. It's very confusing.'

'Thank you?' John said, observing Sherlock's wings as they stretched and relaxed against him. God they were magnificent. But he wasn't gay and he wasn't a Winger, so he forced himself to look away.

'You are welcome.' Sherlock tilted his head, eyeing John up. 'You are a puzzle. I do intend to solve you. It shall quench some of my boredom doing that at least.'

'Well I'm glad to be a source of entertainment,' John sighed, staring across the green hill and purposefully not at Sherlock.

'I didn't mean it like that. It's just... you're rather interesting for a human.'

'Well, I suppose that's better than an idiotic, suicidal one,' John sighed. 'Do you still want to go on that walk? And do you eat human food? Or do you not eat at all?'

'I do not eat human food. I have no need to. It's utterly revolting!' Sherlock pulled a face of disgust.

'Oh. OK. So... do you guys have special angel or Heaven food or whatever that you all eat?'

'Nope. I have no need to eat. This vessel is merely for transport. I do not need to give in to its needs.'

'Is that a smart thing to do?' John asked, turning to look back at Sherlock. He had his wings tucked up behind his back but his muscles still twitched from his flight.

'Was holding a gun to your head a smart thing to do?' Sherlock retorted.

'Point taken.' John stood and stretched. 'So, shall we go? I told my mum I was going to eat so would you mind if I got a sandwich or something?'

'Yes, if we really have to. But be quick about it. I'm bored already.'

'Wow you bore easily. Are all angels like this?' John asked as he began walking towards a little sandwich shop.

'Nope. Just me. I'm one of a kind,' Sherlock replied bluntly.

'Great. I get the arse for an angel,' John grumbled.

'Perhaps I got stuck with an arse of a human!' Sherlock growled.

'Fuck you,' John spat. He clenched his hands into fists and stomped the rest of the way to the shop. The owner took one look at him and sat him in a corner booth, handing him a glass of cool water.

'Bad day, John?' he asked.

'Quite,' John mumbled, looking at Sherlock who was still standing outside. 'I got my angel today.'

'Oh?' The owner turned to look in the direction John was glaring. 'Oh. He's... Um.'

'Exactly,' John sighed. 'And he's a right git too.'

'How about I get you your regular and it'll be on me since you got your angel? But hey, think of it this way: your life can't get any worse now that he's around.'

'You just keep thinking that,' John grumbled as the owner walked away. 'I think it's about to get a lot more frustrating.'

Sherlock stared into the shop with big, sad eyes. His heart suddenly felt too heavy for his chest. Anger coursed through his veins. He had bloody saved John's life and this was how he was repaid? He'd been kicked out of heaven, bound to a human, and now what? The human didn't even want him. Sherlock turned and fled, flying off. Screw it! He was obviously unwanted.

_Humans are idiots,_ he though to himself. _Utter idiots._

He needed to clear his head. A good long fly ought to do it.

John watched Sherlock fly off, abandoning him. Good fucking riddance. The angel clearly didn't like the idea of being bound any more than John did. He bit harshly into his sandwich as he stewed over his angel abandoning him already.

Sherlock flew for miles, his huge black wings flapping silently in the wind. It wasn't long however before Sherlock began to feel strange, a little weak. What was wrong? Why was the ground jumping up at him? Oh. Perhaps it wasn't the ground. Perhaps it was him. Oh dear lord. Damn vessel needed food. He didn't have much time to react, or to do anything really. He hit the ground with a loud crack and everything turned black.

John cried out and clutched his head and arm painfully. His vision was swimming, pain shooting throughout his body. The owner of the shop came over, asking if everything was OK.

'Sherlock,' John grit out. 'My angel. I think he's hurt. How can I possibly know that?'

'You two are connected now. If you're apart he can tell when you're distressed and so can you for him.'

'Wish I'd known that before. Ugh!' He clutched his arm tight and leaned forward slightly, taking some pressure off his back. 'I think he fell out of the sky. Can... Can you go look for him? Someone? Please?' John passed out from pain before anyone could answer, but the shop owner moved to make a call to John's mum as well as the local police department.

**...::-::...**

When Sherlock awoke he was in hospital. Ugh. Hospitals. How dull. He tugged at the wires he was attached to and groaned.

'Fuck. Get me out of here!'

'Stop pulling at them you bloody idiot,' John said, scowling. 'You broke your arm when you fell and your skull took a pretty nasty beating as well. And your wings are bruised but otherwise fine. You might want to preen or something to clean your feathers.'

'Ugh. What are you doing here? I thought you wanted nothing to do with me?' Sherlock groaned loudly.

'I could say the same for you,' John grumbled. 'But my mum told me I needed to be here seeing as you're my guardian and all that. So, here I am.'

Sherlock groaned. 'Everything fucking hurts,' he complained. 'Can't they give me something for the pain?'

'They did. And your angel body burned through it all too damn quick. Don't you guys heal faster than humans anyway? You should be fine in, like, a week.'

Sherlock whined and rolled onto his side, wincing visibly. 'Hurts,' he choked out weakly. 'How do humans cope with pain?'

'We don't,' John said bluntly. 'Why do you think so many people commit suicide each year?'

'Wish I could fucking end it. But it isn't so easy for an angel to die.'

'So I've heard,' John sighed. 'And why do you want to die, if I may ask?'

'Because I am, in effect, a slave. I am bound to strict rules. I cannot love. I cannot leave my assigned human. I cannot drink or have fun. I can't feel. I am a slave. I have been from the moment I was created. Death would bring me freedom.'

John frowned. Was being an angel really that bad?

'Look, I'm sorry you're under such strict rules to guard me, but I don't want you around twenty-four-seven any more than you want to be. So I'll allow you to come and go as you please. You give me my space and I'll give you yours.'

'That sounds reasonable,' Sherlock said, nodding. 'I shall try my best to stay out of your life as much as possible.'

'Look, I didn't mean it like that,' John sighed. 'I just meant that, for the time being, while you're healing, I'll give you your space and maybe we can chat or something. I'd like to get to know my angel a bit. I mean, if you're supposed to watch out for me now, I'd like to know who will be saving me, you know? And after that you can roam free and fly wherever and explore Earth and whatnot. You don't have to be glued to my side like most other angels are to their humans. But occasionally I may call for you when I feel I need you and so I'd like you to show up if I need your help or something. That's all I ask. We don't have to be like other bound human-angel pairs. We can be better than all that mushy gushy crap.'

'You think that you can beat the system?' he asked. 'OK. We can try.' He laughed but it turned out into a cry of pure agony as pain shot through him.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa,' John said softly, reaching out to pull Sherlock onto his back. He made sure to avoid jostling his wings, which were sprawled down over the bed and on the floor. Slings had been set up for them, but they refused to stay in them. Stubborn like the angel they belonged to.

'Try not to jostle your arm or chest,' John said softly, still touching Sherlock's unbroken arm, subconsciously noting how warm he was. 'Your ribs are cracked and your arm was broken in three different places. You're lucky you aren't human, otherwise you'd probably be crippled for the rest of your life or dead after a fall like that.'

'Mmm,' Sherlock groaned. 'My brother's gonna kill me. He's always badgering on about how my stupid vessel needs food to s-survive. Oh god. Everything hurts so fucking much.' He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

'Shhh, Sherlock. Just breathe. Focus on breathing,' John said softly, squeezing Sherlock's unbroken bicep gently. 'Try to take your mind off the pain. Tell me about your brother. What's he like?'

Sherlock grit his teeth together and tried to concentrate on his breathing. 'He's a bloody arsehole. But that's siblings for you.'

'I agree with you there.' John laughed softly. 'My sister's a bitch, but she's family. Do you have any other siblings? Or are all angels technically related since you guys are all created by God?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'I don't really pay attention to the workings of heaven but I suppose we are technically all brothers. Mycroft is the worst though. Utter bastard.'

'Is he one of those angels who thinks he's the boss of everyone?' John smirked.

'Oh. You've met him?' Sherlock joked. 'Pompous idiot thinks he owns Heaven and Earth.'

'Doesn't that go against God's power or something?' John asked. 'And I wasn't sure angels could swear. Doesn't that go against the purity of Heaven or some crap?' He covered his mouth with his hand and gasped softly. 'I'm sorry. I don't mean to question so much about Heaven and all that. I just... I've had my doubts. My parents don't have their angels yet and neither does my sister. I don't know what's OK or not to ask you.'

'It's fine,' Sherlock reassured John. 'Do you wanna know what I think? I think God doesn't exist. I think that it's just us angels up there, constantly fighting each other for power. And to be quite honest I don't give a fuck about the rules. Any of them really.'

'Wait... Are you... are you an atheist angel?'

'Yup.' Sherlock nodded. 'I suppose I am. Problem?'

'No, actually.' John smiled. 'No problem at all. It's a relief actually. I thought when I got my angel he or she would be strictly religious and all that crap. Frankly, despite the angels around us, I'm an atheist too. But don't tell my mum. She thinks I'm a good Christian boy.'

'If only she knew,' Sherlock chuckled. 'What did she have to say about me? Did you tell her why you got me?'

'I had to,' John said softly, looking away. 'How else was I supposed to explain why I blacked out when you fell? I felt your pain, you know. We're connected already. And she cried when I explained and held me a little too tight, but she had good reason to ya know? She wished I had gotten my angel under better circumstances, but it is what it is. She seemed to like you enough when she was here earlier. Said you looked like a kind soul.'

'Me? Kind? I have no idea where she got that idea from,' Sherlock huffed. 'I am far from kind.' He bit his lip and looked at John apologetically. 'Though I am sorry you felt my pain.'

'It's fine. Once you were unconscious I couldn't feel it anymore.' John shrugged nonchalantly and sat in the chair by the bed. 'Though I did tell her that from my first impression you didn't seem very kind. Stubborn and thick-headed. She didn't believe me though. Said all angels seemed that way when they first touched down to Earth. She said we'll both soften eventually and start to like each other a bit more. Maybe even become good friends. Which, if I'm honest, I could really use right now.'

Sherlock cocked his head and hummed. 'I've never had a friend before.'

'Never? Not even in Heaven?' John asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Sherlock shook his head. 'Never.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' John said with a frown. 'Do you think maybe we could be friends? Egos aside and all that of course.' He smirked.

'If you can put up with me being a dick... then yeah.' Sherlock smiled softly. 'I would like that.'

'Just don't bully me and I think we'll get along fine,' John sighed sadly. 'Sorry. I didn't mean– Sorry.'

Sherlock frowned. 'I'm not going to bully you. I am here to stop the bullies.'

'Only the bullies?' John asked, looking up at his angel. 'Are you going to leave as soon as they stop bullying me? Is that how these things work? Or are you actually bound to me for life now?'

'For life,' Sherlock stated, his voice surprisingly soft. 'I am to protect you from everything. Right now I have to protect you from yourself.'

'Right. OK. Um...' He looked away briefly before his gaze flickered to Sherlock's black wings. He traced their shape with his eyes, soaking them in. They were absolutely beautiful and the first pair of wings he'd laid eyes on. The two angels he'd met prior had had their wings tucked inside their clothes. But he imagined Sherlock's wings had them beat. His wingspan was quite impressive, he'd guess maybe fourteen or fifteen feet from tip to tip, and each feather looked like it'd been dipped in black ink, the old kind people used to write with. They were absolutely gorgeous and the most impressive and beautiful he'd ever laid eyes on.

Sherlock watched John watching him curiously. 'Are you really fascinated by them that much?' He took a deep breath. 'Would you like to touch them?' he asked apprehensively. He hated people touching his wings. The black feathers ruffled slightly as his muscles twitched beneath them in agitation.

'I've never seen an angel's wings before,' John said softly. 'They're amazing.' He looked up at Sherlock briefly and smiled softly, his eyes dancing. 'May I touch them? Would you really let me?'

'You may. Just take it slowly. I don't like people touching them and I don't want to accidently lash out at you.'

'Right. Yeah. Makes sense.' John moved forward slowly, watching Sherlock for any signs of agitation. He slowly reached a hand out to stroke along the humerus of Sherlock's wing, feeling the muscles tense and ripple beneath his hand.

'Wow,' he breathed out softly, smiling brightly. He slowly moved down to the radius and then stroked down a patch of feathers, mesmerised by how soft they felt beneath his fingers. Almost like silk.

Sherlock's wing twitched upwards and curled as though trying to shake John's hand. Sherlock smiled and hummed.

'Actually, it's not too bad. A little weird but... mmm. Nice.'

John laughed softly and continued to stroke the feathers. He hoped one day he would be graced with one. A feather from an angel was the greatest gift of all. It was a sign of trust, loyalty, and a strong bond. Perhaps, in time, he and Sherlock could achieve such a bond. Sherlock let his eyes close, completely exhausted and content.

'Don't stop. So good,' he purred, his wing softening to John's touches and curling around his arm.

John flushed and continued stroking Sherlock's feathers, allowing the wing to pull him closer. Sherlock's wing twitched further and dragged John close. One of them splayed out to caress John's face gently. John couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped his lips at the wing's caress. He closed his eyes and leant into the touch, ignoring the tightening in his trousers.

_I'm not a Winger, I'm not a Winger, I'm not a Winger._

_Maybe I am a Winger._

_No! I'm not!_

_But maybe–_

_No!_

He popped his eyes open and pulled away from Sherlock hastily, covering up his blatant arousal with his hands.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,' he apologised profusely. 'I just... I'm a virgin and horny all the time and everything was so soft and–'

Sherlock snored in reply, fast asleep and totally unaware of how his wings had affected John.

_Thank god_, John breathed out in relief. He stood and hobbled off to a bathroom to take care of his still growing problem. Once he finished he returned to Sherlock's room and curled up on the bench in front of the window, falling asleep to the beeping of his angel's heart monitor.

* * *

I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted, but updates will not be occurring Mondays this time. My Mondays are completely packed from noon to 8 p.m., so I'll be dead at the end of the day. I'm thinking maybe Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays for now. We'll see how it goes. I'll find a rhythm at some point.

We'll see you guys after InvisibleBlade has recovered from the series 3 finale and I've had my viewing party with my friends and we've all recovered as well.

Until next time!

TSA + IB


	3. Dreams

Hello everyone! This is a short chapter I'm afraid, but it's a good one. Lots of fluff. This is all John and Sherlock, so do enjoy :)

* * *

_'Hello. Don't worry. You're still fast asleep. I just wanted to know what humans dream of.'_

_'I... I'm sorry. What?' John stammered, looking around before turning back to Sherlock. 'How did you get inside my head? I thought you couldn't read my mind?'_

_'I can't. I can, however, take a peek in your dreams.'_

_'So that's what this is?' John asked, taking in the sweeping countryside. 'My dream?'_

_'It's quite a beautiful dream,' Sherlock mused._

_'It's just countryside.' John shrugged. 'This is usually what I dream about when I'm stressed though. This is my peaceful place and I usually wake up calmer than when I went to sleep.'_

_'Mmm,' Sherlock hummed. 'I can see why. It's, err, nice here.'_

_'I like it a lot.' John smiled. 'Why don't you fly for a bit? I think I'd enjoy watching you fly.'_

_'Wanna hop on?' Sherlock asked softly, crouching down._

_'I– Oh my god, can I?!' John asked in excitement. He raced over to Sherlock and clambered onto his back, making himself comfortable. He stroked one of Sherlock's wings softly, utterly amazed that he was doing this. Holy fuck, he was riding an angel._

_'Hold on tight.' Sherlock chuckled, running and jumping into flight, his wings flapping heavily as they began to soar in the sky. John gasped softly and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's chest and his arms around his waist, holding onto him tightly._

_**Oh my god. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. This is so... Exhilarating! I'm flying with an angel!**_

_'Maybe when I'm better we can do this for real,' Sherlock called out to the boy on his back. 'You seem to enjoy it.'_

_'Oh my god! Can we?!' John exclaimed, laughing joyously._

_'Of course. I'll have to eat some damn food first though. Otherwise I'd risk falling with you on my back.'_

_'Yeah. Let's not risk that,' John agreed. 'This is amazing, though. I can't wait to try it for real.'_

_Sherlock sighed happily. 'I like flying. It makes me forget that I am a slave. It makes me feel free.'_

_'It feels very freeing, yes,' John agreed. 'I wish I could fly like you can.'_

_'This is as close as you're gonna get.' Sherlock smirked slightly._

_'Well, seeing as this is __**my**__ dream, can't I just sprout a pair of wings for myself?' To his amazement, yes he could. He felt them growing even as he was speaking the thought. He glanced back and was amazed to see a striking pair of brown, speckled wings protruding from his back. My god, they were gorgeous. He tested them out as best he could, flapping them experimentally, and laughed for joy._

_'Land. Sherlock, land. You gotta see this.'_

_Sherlock laughed. 'No need to land.' He flipped John off his back and laughed harder as he began to fly._

_John screamed like a teenage girl at a One Direction concert as he fell. But he soon realised he wasn't falling. He was flying. He was actually flying! He removed his hands from his face and looked around until his gaze met Sherlock's. The angel looked incredibly cocky and John scowled at him._

_'Sherlock, you bloody idiot!' he screeched. 'What if I'd fallen to my death?! I've never flown before! I don't know how these things work! What if I'd died?!'_

_'This is a dream, John,' Sherlock scoffed. 'You weren't going to die. Now follow me. I'll race ya.' He swooped off in one swift motion. John whooped for joy and took off after him, flying naturally and with ease. He caught up fairly quickly and ruffled Sherlock's curls, laughing when the angel managed to scowl and pout simultaneously. Sherlock growled playfully and gently flapped his wing against John's face._

_'Not funny.' He scowled when John laughed and flapped his wings harder, flying ahead._

_'So where are we going?' John asked after they'd flown around for a few minutes._

_'Anywhere and everywhere. This is your dream,' Sherlock pointed out._

_'Well, I've always wanted to go to California,' John mused. 'I hear the weather is gorgeous all year.' He suddenly flew past a palm tree and nearly collided with another. He cried out as he actually crashed into one and slid down its trunk and onto the ground._

_'Fuck,' he choked out, trying not to cry. 'That fucking hurt. I hate it when dreams transition that fast.'_

_Sherlock flew to the ground at the speed of ligh. 'Are you... OK?' he asked worriedly._

_'I'm fine,' John choked out, wiping at his eyes. __**Don't you dare fucking cry, Watson! **__'I just... I'm fine.'_

_'Nope. You're not.' Sherlock knelt down and pulled John into a gentle embrace._

_**Don't you fucking cry, don't you fucking cry, don't you fucking cry,**__ John told himself as he tentatively wrapped his arms around Sherlock. His lower lip was trembling and he was sniffling despite himself. __**Don't you fucking cry!**_

_'Hey. It's just a dream. You're not really hurt.' Sherlock's black wings came to wrap around John tightly._

_'I know,' John choked out. 'But... I'm only human. Things are gonna hurt no matter what.' He clutched tighter to Sherlock and breathed deeply, swallowing the sobs that threatened to burst forth. 'I wanna go back to the countryside. I know that place. Less chance of me flying into a fucking tree.'_

_'Shhh.' Sherlock nuzzled John's head gently. 'It's OK. Just think of the countryside. Think of flying over those vast green plains. It'll be OK.'_

_John did. He closed his eyes and imagined his countryside. The rolling green hills, the soft grass beneath his feet, the open sky, the fresh air and the cool breeze on his face. He hummed softly when he felt the ground he was sitting on soften and a breeze started ruffling Sherlock's feathers. He opened his eyes and smiled softly up at his angel._

_'Thank you,' he said softly. 'Thank you so much.'_

_'It's, err... OK.' Sherlock smiled and released John. 'It's the least I could do I suppose.'_

_'So... do you want to fly around for a bit before I wake up? Usually when I'm this calm is about when my body decides to wake up.'_

_'You go,' Sherlock said softly, a frown embedded in his forehead. He could feel the pain of his vessel. His real body was in bloody agony and in a way that the pain was passing into his dream body too._

_'Hey, you OK?' John asked before he gasped sharply in pain, clutching his ribs. 'Sherlock?' He looked up at his angel, asking him with his eyes to explain. Sherlock was practically blinded by the pain now._

_'It's OK,' he choked out before falling sideways onto the ground with a loud scream, his whole body shuddering._

John gasped awake, still clutching at his ribs, and panted harshly as he came back down to Earth. When he had his wits about him he turned to Sherlock and saw a medical team was already working on him, giving him as much morphine as was allowed for a human.

'He's an angel!' John cried, pushing against one of the nurses. 'A normal human dose will do nothing for him! He needs more! Please!'

The medical team all turned to look at John, not saying anything. Sherlock's heart monitor was still beeping radically, his body still convulsing in pain. Finally, someone nodded and injected Sherlock with more morphine, enough to kill a human, and his heart started calming and he relaxed against his mattress.

'Thank you,' John choked out. 'Thank you.'

Sherlock stared at John with a pained but thankful expression on his face before his eyes slipped shut and he fell asleep with a loud whimper.

'It'll be OK now, Sherlock,' John said softly, smoothing a hand through Sherlock's curls. 'But I'm gonna have to go eat now, me being a human and all. I'll be back. You rest.' He squeezed Sherlock's hand gently and left to go the the cafeteria, simply getting a bowl of soup and some tea. He didn't think he could stomach anything heavier at the moment.

Sherlock dreamed. He dreamed of the funny human boy. He dreamed of having John fly by his side. He dreamed of a life that made him feel happy, a life where he was free.

* * *

Sorry for the short update. Things will be slowing down here while I'm at school. I'm taking a fiction writing course and my time and energy will be mostly put toward writing for that class. Fanfiction will take a backseat for a bit I'm afraid. School is more important right now anyway.

Updates will be sporadic or maybe once a week. I will still occasionally publish a one-shot or two, but updates will generally be slowing down. Just a heads up for you all.

Until next time!

TSA + IB


	4. A Bit Out of Character

Another short chapter I'm afraid. My Sherlock watch party is nearing, so I figured a quick update was in order. Since this one is so short, I might post the next one later today or early tomorrow.

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock and Mycroft

Me: John

_Warnings for this chapter: intentional bodily harm, cutting_

* * *

John's mother made him come home for dinner. Sherlock was still asleep and he probably wouldn't be waking for some time. So she took him home and fed him a proper dinner and put him in his own bed to sleep. John couldn't sleep though. He was too worried about his angel. Then he remembered that they could dream together and he forced himself to fall asleep.

_'Sorry about earlier. Ready to fly now?'_

_'Is everything OK?' John asked, inspecting Sherlock for signs of injury. 'What happened? I felt it in my ribs.'_

_'There's nothing for you to worry about. It wasn't anything a bit of morphine couldn't fix,' Sherlock reassured John. 'Now, shall we fly?'_

_'Yeah. OK. I just... I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier. Outside the café. Maybe if I'd been a little more appreciative you wouldn't have flown off and fallen. I'm sorry.'_

_'It's OK. I understand that I'm not one of the easiest beings to like. They have a nickname for me up in Heaven.' Sherlock stepped closer to John. 'They call me the freak.'_

_'That's just mean.' John frowned. 'I don't think you're a freak. I actually kinda like you. As a friend, mind you.' _

_Sherlock smirked. 'You don't have to keep on telling me, you know. That you're not gay or a Winger. It means little to me and it just highlights your insecurities.'_

_'But I'm not either of those!' John protested. 'I'm not!'_

_Sherlock sighed. 'And as I have said, it means nothing to me. Now do shut up.'_

_John clamped his lips shut and huffed. He took off in flight without warning and flew up, up, up, away from the ground and Sherlock._

_'Hey!' Sherlock yelled after John, taking off in flight too. He soon caught up to him, his huge black wings spurring him on quickly through the air. John ignored Sherlock, focusing instead on his flying and how peaceful it felt. He felt powerful and free. He could definitely see the appeal of why Sherlock enjoyed it so much._

_Sherlock grumbled something in annoyance just below John's hearing range and playfully bumped against him to try to gain his attention. John grumbled in reply and flicked his gaze ahead. He made a tree grow just ahead of Sherlock and tried very hard not to laugh when the angel crashed into it and got tangled in the branches. He flew back and landed on a branch just above Sherlock, smirking._

_'Not so fun when it's you, is it?' he sneered._

_Sherlock looked up at John, a look of pure agony and hurt crossing his features. He didn't understand. Moments before this human had wanted to be friends. And now he had purposely hurt him. He held back his screams. He didn't want to give the human the pleasure to see his pain. He simply slipped from the dream and woke up screaming. The pain of the fall and the pain of John hurting him rocketing through him._

_'Good riddance,' John huffed. He flew around for a little while before growing bored and changing his dream. Now he was with Mary, and she was lovely and perfect and she was kissing him. He hummed and kissed her back passionately despite never having kissed anyone before. Somehow he grew bored of this as well and went to search for Sherlock. He wanted to go flying with him again. But he couldn't find him. He'd really left the dream. Now John felt awful for what he'd done to his angel. He needed to go see him, and now._

He woke up slowly, noting that it was five a.m. He climbed out of bed silently and got dressed quickly. He grabbed some money to buy food at the cafeteria and silently snuck downstairs and out the door. Thank god the hospital was within walking distance of his house. He got there in twenty minutes and made his way up to Sherlock's room.

'Sherlock?' he whispered softly. 'Sherlock, are you awake?'

'Sherlock Holmes is no concern of yours, at least for now anyway,' Mycroft Holmes, an angel with a fierce reputation, snarled behind the young teenage boy. 'I'm afraid he had to go into intensive care after he sustained further damage. Damage I believe you caused. If I were you I'd be careful of what you dream whilst my brother is contained within your dreams. He is a very poorly angel indeed.'

John gasped and spun around, clutching his hand to his chest. The angel standing before him looked absolutely menacing, his massive grey wings spread out behind him.

'Intensive care?' he gulped, paling considerably. 'I... It was only a dream. I didn't think he'd actually get hurt. I wasn't hurt when I crashed into the tree in my previous dream. Why did he?'

'Dear lord. What are they teaching the children of Earth these days?' Mycroft snarled. 'You are connected to him, John. Bonded for life. This means several things. You can feel his pain and he can feel yours. Hmmm. Since you're not screaming in agony I would say it's a safe bet that Sherlock has blocked the bond. It is only something that an angel does when they feel threatened. I do believe you're the being threatening him.' He took a deep breath. 'It also means that he can join in your dreams but whilst he joins you he is at his most vulnerable seeing as he is in your mind and you hold full control over him. Meaning when you chose to hurt him in the dream you hurt him in real life too. You mangled his wings. He won't be able to fly for weeks now! I simply think it's unacceptable that you can't feel what he's going through.' Mycroft stepped forwards and placed the palm of one of his hands against John's head. 'Feel his pain boy!' he hissed loudly, unblocking the bond with ease.

John cried out in agony and collapsed to the floor, twitching madly, his hands scrabbling to fix wings that weren't there.

'I'm sorry! I'm sorry!' he cried, curling up in a ball as he continued to twitch.

'Are you?' Mycroft hissed. 'I don't think you're quite sorry enough. Do you know what it's like for an angel to not be able to fly? To have that taken away from him?!'

'Yes!' John cried, writhing around on the floor. 'Yes I'm sorry and yes I know how Sherlock is going to feel when he can't fly! He told me it makes him feel free! And I've taken that away from him! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!'

Mycroft lifted his hand away. 'Go home. Don't come back here. Sherlock will find you when he is well enough. Try to think about what you have done and come up with a bloody good apology for when he returns to you.'

John choked on a sob as he stood on shaky legs and ran away, tears falling down his cheeks. Why had he been so cruel? Why had he done that to Sherlock? He'd said he was treated like a freak in Heaven, and what had John gone and done? Treated him like dirt. He was no better than the bullies who picked on him.

He entered his home and climbed the stairs to his room and locked himself inside. He pulled out a box of blades and cut deep into his wrist, watching the blood drip down his hand and into his bin. When he deemed his punishment done for the day he bandaged his wrist and crawled back into bed, clutching onto a spare pillow and crying into it.

* * *

Sorry for the feels. Next chapter is better. And we get to learn a bit more about John's family. See you then.

TSA + IB


	5. A Thousand Apologies

Hello everyone! I have great news! I am all caught up with series 3! My roommates and I finally sat down and watched all three episodes and ate pizza and cookies. All I can say is as;ldkg;kjhas;kldfwkihkn;doinvaf ALL THE FEELS

Here is the resolution to John's very out of character behaviour. It's a happy ending and we get to meet John's family. For the purposes of this story, John's mum is named Carol and his father is named Scott.

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock  
Me: John, Mrs Watson, Mr Watson, Harry Watson

_Warnings for this chapter: cutting, masturbation_

* * *

One month. That was how long it took Sherlock's wings to recover from the tree incident, or at least to look a little less mangled and for the need for high doses of morphine to subside. It took him a good few weeks longer before he got the guts to go and see John again. He knocked on the door of the Watson residence lightly, not able to fly in, his wings still bandaged.

Mrs Watson opened the door, a soft smile on her face.

'Hello. I was wondering when you would come back.' She ushered him inside, being mindful of his injuries. 'Would you like some tea and biscuits, or do you just want to go see Jonathan now?'

'May I see him now please? Not that I am ungrateful of your hospitality,' Sherlock said, smiling politely.

'Yes, of course,' she nodded. 'He's in his room. I trust you know how to get there?'

Sherlock nodded curtly. 'Yes. I know my way.'

'OK.' She turned to leave but paused. She turned back, her mouth pressed into a thin line. 'He didn't tell me everything, but I inferred he's the one who hurt you. I wish I could make things better, but if you ever need a break from him you can come talk to me of you want. I know how difficult he can be at times.'

'It's quite alright, Mrs Watson. I probably deserved it. I shall be going now.' He turned and made his slow journey to John's room.

'He's barely been out of his room since what happened,' she called after him. 'And I'm pretty sure he hasn't eaten. Take care of him please, because he won't listen to me.'

Sherlock frowned at those words and knocked on John's door. 'John, it's me. Open up.'

John's head snapped up at the sound of Sherlock's voice. He set down his blade, not bothering to bandage his new cuts, and rushed to the door, wrenching it open harshly. He didn't speak, couldn't speak, so he just wrapped his arms around Sherlock in a tight hug and whimpered.

'Shhh,' Sherlock whispered. 'I apologise for not coming sooner. Now, show me your arms. I can fix your scars.'

John shook his head and clutched to Sherlock tighter, burying his face in his shoulder. A small sob escaped him as he felt the bandages holding Sherlock's wings together. He'd done that. He'd deprived his angel of flight.

'John.' Sherlock nuzzled John's hair. 'I'm OK. Really.'

John shook his head again and pulled Sherlock into his room, shutting the door behind them. He still held onto his angel tightly, never wanting to let go.

'I crippled you,' he choked out. 'I damaged your wings. Made you unable to fly. I... I'm so sorry.'

'You really weren't to know,' Sherlock mumbled. 'I apologise for my brother's behaviour. He clearly shook you up quite badly.'

'I... I thought he was gonna kill me,' John whimpered. 'Or that I'd killed you. He... he made me feel your pain. Sherlock... I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did that to you. I'm so sorry.'

Sherlock sighed softly and led John over to the bed, clambering on top of him and hugging him tightly.

'The pain was nothing too bad, honestly. It barely registered on my radar.'

'I was writhing around on the floor,' John sniffled. 'I nearly blacked out from it. I just... I'm so sorry. Will you... Will you fly with me in my dream tonight? Will you be able to?'

'I...' Sherlock frowned. 'I don't know if I can. I... no.'

'No you won't be able to fly or no you won't join me in my dream?' John sniffled.

'I won't join you in your dream,' Sherlock stated.

'Why not?' John whimpered, fresh tears pooling in his eyes. 'Please. I've been so lonely without you. And I feel absolutely terrible about what I've done. Sherlock... Please? I promise never to harm you again. Please? I... I haven't been sleeping much at all since that night. Nightmares. I... I could use a good dream for once.'

Sherlock nodded reluctantly. 'OK. Fine. But firstly let me make your scars all better. Give me your arms.'

'I don't want you to make my scars better,' John said softly. 'They're there to remind me of how fucking stupid I am.'

'Give me your arms,' Sherlock ordered, scowling at John.

John sighed and looked away, reluctantly presenting Sherlock his arms. He didn't want to start another fight, not so soon after Sherlock coming back to him. Sherlock gently took John's arms in his hands and leant down, placing a kiss on each scar and watching in satisfaction as they all disappeared. John's breath caught in his throat as he felt Sherlock's warm lips on his arms. He closed his eyes and thought of the most disgusting things imaginable, not wanting to get an erection again. Damn his virginity always making him horny. He really needed to get laid.

'All done.' Sherlock gently let go of John's arms. 'Is there anywhere else you scarred yourself? Don't lie to me.'

John wiggled his hips and looked away in shame. There was no way he'd be able to stop himself from getting an erection now. Not if Sherlock was going to be planting kisses at his thighs.

'Trousers off,' Sherlock said firmly. 'Take them off or I'll bloody do it for you.'

John groaned and moved to remove his trousers, sliding them down his thighs but stopping when he reached the end of his scars. There was no fucking way he was gonna remove them all the way when that was all Sherlock needed to see, technically speaking. Sherlock frowned but quickly smiled and kissed each scar. John bit his lip hard to keep from moaning and dug his fingers into his sheets as Sherlock kissed his scars gingerly. Fuck, that felt good. More than good. It felt brilliant.

_I'm __**not**__ gay. I'm __**not**__ a Winger. I __**don't**__ have an erection._

_Fuck. I have an erection._

_Sherlock, stop. Oh god, don't ever stop. Keep going. Please._

He couldn't stop the little whimper that burst forth nor the small thrust of his hips as Sherlock's breath ghosted over his cock as he passed over to his other thigh. Fuck. He was gonna be in so much trouble. Sherlock kissed John's other thigh tenderly. He looked at John apologetically.

'Sorry for making you feel so... aroused.'

'I'm sorry,' John whispered, looking away, cheeks red from humiliation. 'I'm still a virgin and everything turns me on at this point. I... It's my body chemistry, not you.'

'A good thing too as it's rather illegal to like me in that way.' Sherlock patted John's inner thighs and pulled his trousers up.

'Plus I'm not gay,' John mumbled more to himself than to Sherlock. He rolled out from under Sherlock and hobbled off to his bathroom, locking the door behind him. He already knew his erection wasn't going to go away on his own, so he decided to make quick work of it.

He shucked off his trousers and pants and got into a comfortable position, grasping his throbbing prick and pumping it steadily, whimpering at his touch. He snaked his other hand down to play with his bollocks and moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. His legs gradually spread as far as they could go, spreading himself open like a wanton whore. He began fucking his fist and moaned and groaned loudly, wracking his brain for scenes from his favourite pornos. He came suddenly, his toes curling at the force of his orgasm, and he gasped sharply, whimpering as he rode it out.

When he finished he cleaned himself up and washed his hands. He pulled his pants and trousers back on and checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable. But when he opened the door he came face-to-face with a very curious and puzzled Sherlock.

Sherlock cocked his head to one side. 'Did I do that to you?' he asked John in wonderment.

John flushed deep red and swallowed audibly, his throat suddenly dry. 'I... No... but yes. Virgin. Teenager. Always horny. And you were down by my... cock. So, um, yes I was aroused but it wasn't because of you.'

'Hmmm,' Sherlock hummed, studying John carefully. 'I am eternally grateful that I am neither a teenager or... horny. It seems rather time consuming.'

'Yeah, well, I guess with that attitude you won't have to worry about being grounded. So, um... It's about dinner time. Would you stay and eat with us? And I'm sure my mum will insist as well. And I suppose you should meet my father and my sister too.'

'I suppose... if I have to,' Sherlock sighed loudly. 'As long as there's no meat in the food.' He wrinkled up his nose and shuddered. 'Meat is bloody disgusting.'

'Vegetarian?' John asked as he opened his bedroom door to lead Sherlock downstairs.

Sherlock shrugged. 'I don't really know. To be honest I hate all Earth food. It's so... dull.'

'Then what have you been eating to keep your strength up while you healed?' John lead Sherlock down into the sitting room, where his father was watching some sport on TV. John didn't much care for sports. He was too small for most of them anyway.

'I've been eating. That's all you need to know,' Sherlock answered briefly and bluntly.

'Um.. OK. Well, Sir? There's someone I'd like you to meet,' he said as politely as he could manage. His sister was a lot like their father, short tempered and quite sweary. Thankfully he seemed to have caught his father in a good mood.

'Is this the angel your mum told me about?' the man asked, standing from his chair to approach the angel. Sherlock stood up a little straighter and extended his hand out to John's father for him to shake.

'It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr Watson. I am Sherlock Holmes and you are correct. I am John's angel.'

The man took Sherlock's hand and grasped it, shaking it nice and firm. 'It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr Holmes. I only wish you had arrived in better circumstances.' He glared over at John and the teenager swallowed. Fuck. He was in trouble. Sherlock glanced over to John before returning his gaze to John's father.

'Please, feel free to call me Sherlock, Mr Watson. And I can assure you that I'll keep your son in line.' He sent an unseen wink over to John. 'He's in good hands. I am Mycroft Holmes' brother.'

Yes. Good. Everyone knew who Mycroft was. He was one of the biggest angel names out there. One of the most respected and feared too.

'Mycroft's brother, eh?' Mr Watson smiled. 'Good. My boy could use some Holmes discipline to keep him straight. Now, are you staying for dinner? Carol has prepared a lovely spread tonight.'

'I'd love to stay for dinner. I may not be able to eat much however. The medication I'm on because of my still healing wings is rather strong and therefore dampens my hunger. I've been assured that she cooks the most delightful of meals though, so I shall try my best.'

'Yes, I heard about your accident. Flew into a tree? The city really needs to clean up these blasted trees if angels are flying into them all the time,' Mr Watson grumbled. 'John, show Mr Holmes to the dining room. I'll fetch your sister.'

'Yes, Sir.' John nodded curtly. He ushered Sherlock over to the adjoining room and hid behind the wall. 'You may want to cover your ears,' he told Sherlock, covering his own. 'Incoming, Mum!' he warned as well.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'I'm not frightened of her, John,' he stated boldly.

'That's not what I'm warning you about,' John said, cut off partially as his father yelled up the stairs, his booming voice nearly shaking the entire house.

'Harriet! Get your pampered arse down here and eat some dinner!'

'I ain't hungry!'

'Don't give me that bull! Get down here now! Your brother's angel is here and you have to be polite and meet him!'

'I don't wanna!'

'Get! Down! Here! Now!'

'Fine! Ya stupid git!'

The shouting stopped and John removed his hands from his ears. Seemed the coast was clear. He checked around the corner. His father was back to watching sports and Harry was stomping around upstairs doing god knows what until she came down. John sighed and went into the kitchen, his mother still covering her ears. John touched her wrist gently and she opened her eyes, looking at him a little dazed.

'All clear,' he mouthed to her. She nodded and uncovered her ears, sighing loudly. She looked over to Sherlock apologetically and plastered a fake smile on her face.

'Sorry about that dear. Those two are always so difficult. Now, I heard you say you won't be eating much, but that's alright. I just want to make sure I didn't cook anything you're allergic to or something. I'm not even sure if angels can have allergies. Can they?'

'No, we are immune to such things, Mrs Watson,' Sherlock said, smiling brightly. 'And it is quite alright. I can assure you that I have endured far worse with my own siblings. Family, eh?'

'Yes, family,' she said softly. 'Jonathan, why don't you go set the table? I still have a few things to do out here.'

'Of course, Mum,' John said softly. He moved to the cupboard and pulled out five plates, then got out forks, knives, and spoons. He kissed his mum on the cheek as he passed by and went into the dining room, setting the plates and silverware out.

Sherlock walked over to John. 'Your family seems nice,' he whispered against the blonde's ear.

'You say that now,' John whispered back sarcastically. 'You haven't met my sister yet.'

'I'm certain I will hate her. I'm just trying to be polite.'

'Good luck with that. Harry'll test your patience. Mark my words.'

'In which case I may just have to kill her.'

'Oh, would you please?' John laughed softly.

Sherlock stepped closer and placed his arm around John. 'If that would make you happy, then yes.'

'I was _joking_, Sherlock,' John hissed. 'And stop touching me like that. It makes me uncomfortable. And my father already thinks I'm queer. Your touches won't help me prove to him that I'm not.'

'I am an _angel_, John. My brother is the most feared and respected angel out there. Your father would not dare accuse us of having homosexual feelings,' Sherlock hissed back angrily and removed his arm.

'True, but that won't stop Harry.' Loud stomping could still be heard from his sister and suddenly she was stomping down the hall and to the stairs. 'Brace yourself. Here comes Hurricane Harriet.'

Sherlock sighed loudly. 'Luckily I'm fairly weather resistant,' he joked.

John giggled softly but stopped abruptly when Harry rounded the corner. She looked a mess, her clothes slapped on haphazardly, her boots scuffed and untied, her hair a tangle of knots, and her eyes bloodshot. What had she gotten into now?

'Hi,' she said, smiling politely at Sherlock. 'You must be the angel that saved my brother's life. Stupid git was gonna kill himself and you saved him.' She looked to John, wobbling slightly. 'Wish he hadn't. Idiot has no future. It'd be better if ya just ended it,' she breathed in his face. John wrinkled up his nose in distaste. She smelled of bad breath and stale alcohol. Sherlock stepped forwards and fixed John's sister with ice cold eyes. He smirked. Angels could manipulate humans into feeling things. It was fantastic for people he didn't like. And he definitely didn't like Harriet. Right now he was pouring fear into her heart. Pure fear.

'What're you doing?' she slurred, watching the angel for any sort of sudden movement. But he wasn't doing anything. Not that she could see. Wait... Something was crawling up her leg. She looked down and shrieked in terror. The biggest spider she'd ever seen in her life was on her fucking jeans. And now there were more of them coming for her.

'Get them off! Get them off!' she shrieked, frozen to the spot with fear. 'Please! Someone get them off!'

John watched his sister scream at nothing. He was trying very hard not to smile. He froze too when his father stomped into the room.

'What the bloody hell is going on in here?' he demanded. 'Harriet! Why are you shrieking?'

'Spiders! So many spiders!' she sobbed. 'Kill them, Daddy! Please!'

'Spiders? What spiders? I don't see any spiders?'

'They're all over me!' Harry sobbed, her hand twitching slightly as one began to crawl up her arm. 'Daddy, please!'

Mr Watson looked over to Sherlock and scowled. 'You're doing this,' he growled. He pointed a meaty finger at the angel's chest and then back at Harriet. 'Stop this now or you won't ever be able to set foot in my house again.'

Sherlock's nostrils flared. Time to take Mr Watson down a notch. He turned his sharp glare to him and injected paralysing fear into him, keeping Harriet scared witless at the same time.

'What do you think you're doing, boy?' a loud voice boomed behind Mr Watson. He froze, something he rarely did. Not since... since... He turned and saw his own father glaring back at him.

'I said what are you doing? Answer me, boy!'

John watched as his father and sister became paralysed with fear. It wasn't until his mother came in to investigate that he realised what was really going on.

'Is everything ok in here?' she asked softly. 'Sherlock? John?' When she saw her husband and daughter curled up in balls on the floor she shrieked and rushed to their sides. 'What's going on? What's wrong? Someone tell me, please!'

'I do believe they're coming down with something,' Sherlock said, releasing his hold on both Mr Watson and Harriet. 'You should get a doctor to check it out.'

'Don't lie to me!' Mrs Watson cried, looking up at the angel. 'What did you do?'

Sherlock glanced up at Mrs Watson and pumped trust into her. She instantly relaxed. 'Nothing. I swear Mrs Watson. I know a sick human when I see one.'

'Yes, of course,' she muttered, looking down at her husband and daughter. 'You two should go to bed. Don't want you getting the rest of the household sick.' She helped them up and ushered them upstairs, tucking them both into bed.

John turned to Sherlock and scowled. 'What did you do to my family?'

'I... I did it for you, John. I thought you'd be happy.' Sherlock blinked in surprise.

'I don't care about my father and sister, thanks for that. It was quite entertaining. But what did you do to my mum?'

'I made her trust me. It's for her own good, really.'

'She already trusted you! You're an angel! My mum trusts all of you!'

'Oh, for fuck's sake!' Sherlock growled, 'I'm going.'

'Sherlock! Sherlock wait!' John grabbed onto his arms and held him still, looking up into his eyes. 'I'm sorry. I seem to fuck everything up around you. I have no idea how to act around an angel or deal with all your magical things. I think maybe we should chat after dinner and get used to one another and talk about what's ok or not to say or do around one another.'

Sherlock sighed and softened slightly. 'OK. Sorry for over-reacting. I'm quite a drama queen.'

'Yes you are, but I kinda like it. At least you aren't a boring angel,' John smiled.

Mrs Watson returned and smiled softly at Sherlock and her son. She sat them at the table and brought out dinner, sitting down by her son.

'Sherlock, I know this is probably silly of me to ask, but would you say grace tonight?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Of course I'll say grace, Mrs Watson.' He refrained himself from rolling his eyes. Why did everyone think he believed in God just because he was an angel? He bowed his head and put his hands together, saying the traditional 'our father' prayer. Mrs Watson smiled and bowed her head, John following suit only out of politeness. Sherlock finished with a loud sigh of 'Amen.'

'Amen,' John and Mrs Watson chorused. They opened their eyes and Mrs Watson smiled at Sherlock.

'Thank you. That was lovely, dear. Now go ahead and dig in. Don't be afraid to have seconds if you find something you particularly like.'

'Thanks, Mrs Watson,' Sherlock smiled and began to nibble at his food.

John piled his plate up with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables, grabbing a side of meatloaf as a second thought. He dug into his food, almost shovelling it into his mouth and eating quickly.

'Jonathan!' his mum scolded. 'Eat slower!'

'But I'm hungry!'

'I'm happy to see you eating again but please, slow down and don't eat like such a pig!'

John huffed but ate slower, still taking large bites of his food though. Sherlock frowned. John would get a severe tummy ache later. Why eat so much and so quickly? Sherlock could barely stomach a mouthful of food and he ate at an incredibly slow pace. Food was disgusting. John looked over at Sherlock's plate, noting that only a small amount of vegetables was on it. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at the food. Sherlock looked at John blankly and pushed his plate away.

'You may have them. I apologise, Mrs Watson but my medication really does dampen my hunger.'

'Oh, it's fine, dear,' she said, smiling softly. 'I know angels don't eat much anyway. Jonathan, though, should quit while he's ahead. Clear the table and put the leftovers away.'

'Yes, Mum,' John said, swallowing his mouthful of mashed potatoes. He kissed her on the cheek and began to clear the table, gathering the food and putting them in storage containers before putting them in the fridge.

Sherlock stood to his feet. 'I am afraid I have to leave now. I shall return tomorrow. I have to see my brother about an important matter. Thank you for your hospitality. Sleep well, John. Sweet dreams.'

'But I thought we were gonna have a chat tonight?' John pouted.

'Let him go, Jonathan. Your angel shall return,' Mrs Watson said. 'Take care, Sherlock. And I wish you a speedy recovery.'

'We will chat,' Sherlock stated. 'As I said, sweet dreams.' He nodded curtly at Mrs Watson. 'Thank you Mrs Watson. I hope to see you soon.'

She waved as Sherlock left, standing to clear the plates and watch Sherlock traipse down the pavement.

'He seems nice.' She smiled at John. 'And am I to take it he has been visiting you in your dreams?'

'Yes, but he hasn't been since... the incident. And how did you know angels can visit your dreams? Even I didn't know that.'

'I read a lot, dear. You should try it. Might do you some good.'

'Yeah, ok. May I go to my room?'

'Of course. I love you.'

'I love you too, Mum.' He kissed her cheek and went upstairs to his room, shutting and locking his door. He opened his laptop and began researching angel behaviours and all the things they could do with and to humans. He stayed up late into the night until his eyelids began to droop. He flopped onto his bed and fell asleep nearly instantly, waiting for Sherlock to arrive in his dream.

* * *

See? Much better. Things work themselves out soon. Our boys share another dream and all is right with their world ;)

I'm not sure when I'll update, but maybe by the weekend.

Until next time!

TSA + IB


	6. A New Dynamic

Hello all! Happy Saturday! Since I had some time I decided an update would be a good thing to do :) Especially since _Sherlock_ is on again tomorrow night ;) I can't wait to watch _The Sign of Three_ again.

This chapter is a bit short, but it's a new dynamic to John and Sherlock's relationship. Next chapter features some more "interesting" bits ;)

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock, Mycroft  
Me: John

_Warnings for this chapter: dream sex, dream oral sex, some feels, talk of abuse (past and continuing), dick comparison, angel erections, sexual identity crisis_

* * *

'I need to go see John! I promised!' Sherlock screamed at his brother.

'Hmm,' Mycroft huffed, his silver wings twitching in agitation. 'You seem to be remarkably attached to him for someone who despises human beings.'

'I'm his angel!'

'That means something, Sherlock. It means you protect him! It doesn't mean you get attached.'

'We're bonded for life!'

'That can always be changed, Sherlock. You have to ensure that you are not... emotionally attached.'

'Fuck off!'

'Language!' Mycroft scowled at his baby brother.

'I believe it's English!' Sherlock said sarcastically.

**...::-::...**

_John was incredibly disappointed when Sherlock didn't show up. He sat in his meadow, pouting, his dream wings twitching, until he decided to change things. He made his own Sherlock angel appear. So they flew around for a while before John got tired of it, so instead they talked about small things, Sherlock telling John what he wanted to hear. Then his damn teenager libido took over and suddenly they were both naked sprawled out on a large bed, still in John's meadow, and Sherlock was sucking John off._

_'Gah! Fuck! Don't stop, Sherlock! Please!' John cried._

_Sherlock finally got away from his brother to sleep, entering John's dream. What he saw there made him freeze. His eyes popped from his skull._

_'Err... I... I'll leave you two to it,' he stammered. He couldn't leave the dream fast enough. John barely noticed Sherlock's arrival and departure. He was too focused on his own Sherlock giving him the best head he'd ever dreamed of. All too soon he was cumming, shooting down Sherlock's throat. _No, wait... He was cumming in his own pants. He groaned loudly and shucked them off, turning over and going back to sleep.

_'Brilliant. You're finished.' Sherlock clapped his hands together, scowling at John in his dream. 'Not a gay Winger my arse.'_

_'I... I'm not... I don't know what I am,' John said softly, looking away from Sherlock in shame. 'If I ever turned out to be gay my father would kill me. And my mum... She thinks I'm a good, straight, Christian boy. But a gay atheist? She'd disown me.'_

_'Either way refrain from using me as your... I don't know what I just witnessed. Just not me, OK?'_

_'Right. Of course.' John swallowed. 'I just... I'm sorry.' He covered his face with his hands and sighed loudly. What the hell had he been thinking?_

_Sherlock stepped closer and smiled gently. 'Because if anyone found out about your dreams about me, at least those types of dreams, they would not hesitate to kill me.'_

_'Just because I dream about it doesn't mean my feelings about it are real,' John huffed. 'And I thought you couldn't kill an angel?'_

_'It doesn't matter if your feelings are real or not. If you're dreaming about it then it implies something. I could get into serious trouble. They'd ground me. I would never be able to fly again! I'd be ridiculed. I'd be killed. Grounded angels can die.'_

_'Well, I'll put a lid on my erotic dreams shall I?' John looked up at Sherlock and sighed. 'I'm sorry. I don't want you to get grounded.'_

_'It's OK. I realise it's hard for you. I would appreciate it though.'_

_'Yeah. OK. I'll try. So... Do you wanna go flying? Or do you wanna talk? I did some research on angels before bed. Huh. Maybe that's why it was you this time instead of... Never mind.'_

_Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't question John. 'I would quite like just to talk, if that is OK.'_

_'OK. Yeah. Let's talk.' John changed his dream slightly to include a plush bed, one large enough to fit two people on it comfortably._

_'Don't look at me like that,' he said to Sherlock's slightly horrified expression. 'Every deep conversation I've had took place on a bed. All we're going to do is sit and talk. I promise.'_

_'If you say so,' Sherlock said, not entirely trusting John after all he had seen. He cautiously approached the bad and lay down on it._

_'You sit, silly.' John laughed and sat on the bed beside Sherlock and crossed his legs, placing his hands on his ankles._

_Sherlock sat up. 'I knew that. So erm... what do you want to discuss?'_

_'I don't know.' John shrugged. 'Um... Wow. There's so much I want to ask and yet I don't know what to start with. Well, if you're up for sharing, what do angels eat? Oh, and how have your injuries been healing? Not like physically how, I just want to know how you're progressing.'_

_'In Heaven we have no need to eat anything. Down here, evidently from my fall, we do. Though I don't have a big appetite. I'm not entirely sure how you can eat so much and so quickly without feeling a little ill. And my injuries aren't too bad now. They're healing nicely.'_

_'Good to hear you're healing nicely.' John smiled softly. 'I still feel awful about what I did. I'm not even sure why I did it. It was very out of character for me. I'm so sorry._

_'As for the eating thing, human teenagers are known for their large appetites. It's almost like we have a bottomless pit for a stomach. We need to eat more because our bodies are growing and changing and we need the nutrients to sustain the growth.'_

_'Hmm. As long as you know that eating so much and so fast, no matter what your age, is not terribly good for you.' Sherlock sniffed and pulled a face of repulsion. 'And it's fine, about what happend with the tree. I touched a raw nerve. I get that.'_

_'I still feel bad about it though.' John frowned but shook it away. 'Have you got a question for me? Maybe we could take turns asking instead of one of us dominating the conversation.'_

_'OK. Hmm. How can I make you happy? As an angel I have the power to change anything about your life. Anything. So... what can I do for you?'_

_'Anything? Like, changing personalities or habits? What are your limitations?'_

_'Oh honey, I have no limitations.' Sherlock winked playfully._

_'Well, I'd appreciate it if you could help my sister. She's gotten into a lot of bad stuff lately, mostly alcohol, and she's become irritable and cross because of it. And... my father. He... he hits my mum. A lot. I'm sure your angel vision could see past the makeup she wears to cover up the bruises. Fix his anger issues and my sister's addictions. That's all I ask. Well, and maybe deal with my bullies for me. Like, scare them off like you did with my father and sister earlier. That'd be a sight to see.'_

_Sherlock listened carefully and nodded. 'I can do all of that.' He leant forward and kissed John lightly on the forehead. John froze and tensed all his muscles at Sherlock's touch._

_'OK. Yeah. Good. Um... Let's talk boundaries really quick. So that, the kiss? Don't do that unless you want a repeat of that dream you walked in on. All your little intimate touches aren't helping.'_

_'I apologise.' Sherlock looked away. 'It was merely me sealing my promise to you. I shall refrain from doing such a thing in the future.'_

_'Well, if it's an angel ritual thing then by all means, go ahead. But let me know that's what you're doing, OK? Cuz if you do that in front of my father he may have his doubts about us just being in a platonic angel-human relationship.'_

_'OK. But I still say that he is powerless to do anything. If he wasn't scared of me and my brother before, he is now.'_

_'Yes, I realise that. I know he won't say anything about it but I'm sure he'll be thinking about the dynamics of our relationship and how deep our bond is.' John sat back slightly and rested his weight on his hands, spreading his legs out in front of him, his toes almost stretching to meet Sherlock's knees._

_'So, what about you? What boundaries do you want me to know about?'_

_'Don't touch my wings without permission. Definitely no erotic dreams. Don't pester me to eat.' Sherlock bumped his knees against John's feet and smiled. 'I think that's it.'_

_'Noted and understood.' John grinned, pushing his toes against Sherlock's kneecaps. 'I think we can go back to questions now. Um... Do you guys mirror the ages of those you guard? Because you look about eighteen and your brother looks about forty. Unless you guys were created that way.'_

_'We mirror those we are paired with. Though I am far from a teenager,' Sherlock replied. 'God. What do I even look like? I haven't seen my reflection yet.'_

_'If you don't know what you look like, how did you know you were the one I was dreaming about?' John asked skeptically._

_'The person you were dreaming about had wings, John,' Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. 'Who else could it have been?'_

_'Oh. Right. Yeah,' John said lamely._

_'So are you going to show me what I look like or not?'_

_'Oh. Right. Here.' John made a full-length mirror appear by the bed. 'Check yourself out.'_

_Sherlock let out a low whistle and waggled his eyebrows as he inspected his reflection._

_'Bloody hell. I'm gorgeous. Not bad for someone who's almost three thousand years old, huh?'_

_'Three __**thousand?**__' John gasped, his jaw dropping. 'Holy shit. That's... Wow. You look good for your age.'_

_'Mmm. Thank you. I know I do. My god. Is that a six pack? Fucking hell.'_

_'What?! When did you take your shirt off?! Did I do that?!'_

_'Nope. That was me. Awfully sorry. I'll put it back on. Sorry.'_

_'It's fine.' John blushed, trying not to watch as Sherlock buttoned his shirt back up. 'Just warn me next time you take your clothes off to inspect your vessel's body or whatnot. I don't exactly want to be around when you check out your bare lower half.'_

_'Already done that. Is it usual to be so large? Or is that something I should probably get checked out?'_

_'Um... How large?' John swallowed, blushing deeply._

_'From here to here.' Sherlock gestured from his wrist to just above his elbow. He shrugged. 'Maybe it's cuz I'm an angel. We probably all have larger cocks than humans.'_

_'I would hope that's the case,' John said, swallowing again. 'Because you have a thirty centimetre dick. That's quite an accomplishment for a human. The norm around here is between fifteen and eighteen.'_

_'I'm not mocking you. I really do have a large dick. Probably for show more than use, seeing as I can't get erections. Shame really. I've always wanted one.'_

_'I um... Well, since it's my dream I could... give you one if you wanted,' John stammered, blushing a deep crimson at his words._

_'It would be appreciated,' Sherlock said with a smirk._

_John couldn't help but stare at the large bulge he was causing to grow in Sherlock's trousers. It looked fucking huge and damn it all John was going to be having some great wanking material after this. Wait... No. He wasn't gay. Or a Winger. But he had to admit seeing an aroused Sherlock was pretty damn erotic._

_'Pheww... oh god. I feel strange. Oh... are my trousers supposed to be this tight?' Sherlock jerked his hips upward, trying to create a little friction. 'Fuck. John. Stop... stop. Too large. Too bloody large!'_

_John really wanted to ignore Sherlock and wait for him to burst through his trousers, maybe watch him wank that massive cock with both hands until he had his first orgasm ever, maybe wank alongside him... But then he remembered he wasn't gay nor a Winger and he made Sherlock's cock soften as well as his own. Though he was probably still achingly hard in his own bed at home._

_'Yeah, so,' John said, voice incredibly weak and small. 'No more of that if you want me to keep away from the erotic dreams.'_

_'Yes. Err... That was rather peculiar. Definitely no more of that.' Sherlock's lips parted and he let out a loud sigh, his cheeks turning a rosy color._

_John cleared his throat and slid from the bed. 'Just um... Just give me a minute. I need to clear my head.' He started walking barefoot through his meadow, the grass soft and squishy beneath his feet._

_Sherlock rolled from the bed. 'I'll be in my own dream if you need me!' he called softly. John clearly needed some space. 'Just call my name once you're done thinking. Just whatever you do don't cross into my dream!'_

_'What happens if I do?' John asked, but Sherlock was already gone. He sighed and began walking again, simply enjoying the feel of the grass beneath his feet and the warm sun on his face. He tried very hard not to think about what had just happened but his mind conjured up a completely debauched Sherlock begging for his help, begging for a release. John went red in the face and his pulse skyrocketed. He couldn't engage, couldn't do anything, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't whisk the image away. He finally gave in to temptation and helped his dream Sherlock wank, occasionally sucking on the head of his imaginary cock, until the figure came screaming. It disappeared shortly after and left John alone, on his knees, in his meadow._

_Fuck, he was gonna be in so much trouble._

* * *

Sorry it just kinda cuts off. I just wanted there to be a bit of a break before the *real* smut happened. And it will next chapter. Oh boy will it. I'm going to try to get that up by Thursday or Friday. Then the real adventure starts ;)

Until next time!

TSA + IB


	7. Something New

Hello everyone! I have a snow day today (more like an extreme wind chill day), so I decided to update. This is a bit of a short chapter, so I'll probably update again this weekend.

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock  
Me: John

_Warnings for this chapter: dark imprisonment images, nudity, big dicks, awkward erections, masturbation, hand jobs, blow jobs, SMUT_

* * *

_Angel dreams weren't like human dreams. Human dreams were messy and full of hopes, aspirations, and fears. Humans were free in their dreams. Angels were far from free in theirs. Sherlock always found that humorous, considering angels weren't allowed freedom in their waking life._

_Angel dreams were akin to walking around in a cramped prison. They were dark, they smelt of pure sweat and fear, and they were burdened with every responsibility and hardship an angel had faced over its lifetime. Sherlock was three thousand years old. He'd been through a hell of a lot in Heaven to get his place on Earth. He had a lot of hardships resting on his shoulders._

_And now here Sherlock was in his true form, a blazing light glowing in the dark, trapped until John called for him._

_Until then, Sherlock merely sat in chains mulling over his past as it drowned him like poison._

**_...::-::..._**

_John had finally calmed down and returned to the plush bed, sitting cross-legged on it. He waited for Sherlock to return but he didn't. John frowned. Wait... Hadn't Sherlock told him he had to do something before he could come back? What was it? What was it?_

_'Sherlock?' he asked softly. 'Can you come back now?'_

_Sherlock could hear a faint buzzing from close by but he felt so pressed down by the dark and the fear of his dream that he couldn't move from the shackles he was tied down with. He let out a high pitched wail of distress and his true form throbbed as it tried to escape the dark and back to John. But it wouldn't let him. He was well and truly stuck. He was terrified._

_'Sherlock?' John said when he saw his form flicker in front of him but then disappear. 'Sherlock?!'_

_Sherlock tugged and pulled and strained. Eventually he managed to pull free. He came tumbling out of the dark and into the light. He curled his vessel into a small ball on the ground and shook, sobbing loudly._

_'Sherlock!' John cried and rushed over to him. Gingerly he placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and turned him over, inspecting him for injuries._

_'Sherlock, what's wrong? Are you hurt?'_

_Sherlock shook his head and dragged John closer. 'N-o,' he choked out. 'Not hurt. I'm – I'm sorry. I wanna go. Gotta clear my mind.'_

_'Go? You mean wake up?' John asked, pulling Sherlock onto his lap and hugging him close._

_'Yes. I – I want to wake up. Please.'_

_'OK. Will you come visit me later after you've cleared your head?'_

_Sherlock nodded and hugged John tightly. 'Yes. I'll come and visit you.'_

_'OK. Go. I'll be here a little while longer anyway before I wake up. See ya later.'_

Sherlock vanished from the dream. He woke up drenched in sweat. He had to take a shower. Hmm. Maybe John wouldn't mind him using his bathroom.

Sherlock took a long walk through London to clear his troubled mind before entering the Watson household as quietly and secretively as possible. He padded into John's bathroom and stripped himself of all his sweaty clothes. He turned on the shower and stepped under its spray, humming as it took away his bad dream.

John spent a few more hours in his dream, which was probably another hour of sleep for himself. He yawned as he woke up and rolled over, his arm flopping over the side of his bed and his face smashed into his pillow. His still waking mind registered that there was water running. Maybe his mum was already up and making tea. No. It was closer than that. He blinked an eye open and looked toward his bathroom. The light was on, shining under the door, and the shower was indeed running. Damn it. Harry had probably gone out last night and entered his room instead of here again.

John groaned loudly and crawled out of bed, putting on a clean pair of pants before he entered his bathroom and wrenched open the curtain.

'Harry! Get the–' But it wasn't Harry. It wasn't even a drunk friend she'd brought home and had passed out in the shower. No. This was a very naked, very wet Sherlock and... Oh my god. His cock really _was_ fucking huge! And it looked so much better than the image his mind had conjured up in his dream. Sherlock squawked and his wings twitched angrily, as though threatening to go into flight mode.

'John!' He looked around for something to cover himself up with but in his panic he couldn't find anything. 'Err... just get out! Get out now! Bloody close that jaw of yours and go!'

John blinked and snapped his jaw shut, closing the curtain roughly. He left without saying a word and flopped back on his bed. He was hard again. God dammit. Did he risk wanking with Sherlock just in the other room? Apparently yes because his hand was down his pants and was stroking himself before he knew it.

Sherlock heard the moans, naturally. Angels had sharp and crystal clear hearing. It was rather unfortunate in this case seeing as it was his name being moaned out. Then something strange happened. His cock perked up and hardened. It was now incredibly thick and heavy. This wasn't right. Angels didn't get erections. Oh god. John's dream. John had dreamt him having an erection. What if that had somehow awoken a libido that he hadn't even been aware of?

He clambered out of the shower and shook himself dry like a dog, tiny drops of water flying everywhere. He didn't bother with a towel, simply hobbling out naked into John's room, a fierce blush rushing down his body.

'John,' his voice surprisingly cracked. 'I – are you sure you're not gay? Because–' Sherlock swallowed thickly. 'I need your help.'

'Eeep! Sherlock! What– Oh my god.' When he caught sight of Sherlock's massive erection he just about came. But he held it off and managed to peel his eyes away to look at Sherlock's face. He was flushed, his pupils blown from arousal, and he was breathing a lot quicker than normal.

'I... I don't know. Maybe I'm bisexual, but I really don't know. What... um... what do you need me to do?'

Sherlock just looked exasperated at John. 'First time in a vessel, remember? I don't know what to do with... this.' He gently stroked his cock and bit back a loud groan.

'Do you just want to... do what I'm doing?' John swallowed thickly and watched Sherlock's cock twitch and bob between his legs. Fucking hell it was gorgeous.

Sherlock stepped closer to John. 'I would, but you seem like such an expert. Can't you do it for me? I won't tell anyone. I'm an angel. There are consequences for me. So I'm not going to blab my mouth off. I really need your help.'

'Are you sure I'm allowed? I don't want to get you in trouble.'

'They wouldn't have to know,' Sherlock whispered softly. 'Please?'

'Um... OK,' John agreed hesitantly. 'Why don't you lay back? It'll be easier for both of us.'

Sherlock crawled onto the bed and lay back. 'Like this?' he panted.

'Yeah. Good,' John breathed out softly. 'Really fucking good. Damn.' He moved over to Sherlock and licked his palm, coating it thoroughly before grasping Sherlock's rock hard and enormous prick.

'Jesus Christ,' John moaned as Sherlock gasped softly. 'Fuck. It's so warm.'

Sherlock whimpered and pushed his cock through John's fist. 'Oh god. This feels...' He jerked his hips upward. 'Wonderful. Why haven't I tried this before?'

'I don't know,' John whispered, watching everything that Sherlock did. From the canting of his hips to the parting of his mouth to the way his hands grasped his bed sheets. Fucking hell he was going to enjoy this.

He began moving his hand up and down Sherlock's impressive length, squeezing a little harder as he got a steady rhythm going. He was tempted, oh so tempted to lick the little beads of precum off the head but he just used them as lubrication instead. He didn't want to go much further than a handjob if he could help it.

Sherlock's wings stretched out in excitement and stroked John's face appreciatively. He closed his eyes and moved his hips a little faster, letting the pleasure running through him slowly encompass him. John leaned into Sherlock's feathered touch and moaned softly, working his hand faster. The wing was pushing him down, pushing him closer to... Oh. Oh good lord.

Sherlock's prick was right there, right in front of his face, so close he could feel the heat coming off it and smell his natural scent. He wanted to know what he tasted like, so fucking bad. He poked his tongue out and softly licked the underside of Sherlock's cock just below his head. John moaned loudly. Fuck, Sherlock tasted good. Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he gasped loudly. He moved so his cock was pushing against John's mouth.

'Do that again.'

John didn't even think. He simply took Sherlock into his mouth as much as he dared and began sucking loudly, continuing to wank the rest of Sherlock's shaft. Sherlock's eyes slipped shut again. He let John take full control. He obviously knew what he was doing. Sherlock occasionaly stroked John tenderly with his wings to show how much he was enjoying everything. John hummed softly and hollowed his cheeks like he'd seen the people do in the pornos he watched. He began bobbing his head and managed to take a little more of Sherlock in, continuing to wank the length he couldn't swallow.

Sherlock felt his body tense and suddenly he found himself dragged over the edge as an orgasm shuddered through him. John spluttered and pulled off Sherlock's cock, watching in amazement as he spurt thick globs of cum all over his stomach and chest.

'Thank you,' Sherlock breathed out softly, turning around and cuddling up to John, wrapping his wings around him in a tight embrace.

'Um... You're welcome,' John swallowed, tasting some of Sherlock's seed on his tongue. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. Holy shit. He'd just given his first blow job to an angel. A goddamn angel. He was so going to Hell.

'Mmm. Sleepy now,' Sherlock whispered. 'Can I sleep here, with you?'

'I... I suppose. Yes.' John looked at the clock. It was almost nine. He hadn't been asleep long at all. Only a few hours. He could use some more sleep before he was really awake.

'Could you put some pants and a t-shirt on or something though? I'd rather not sleep with a naked angel. Sorry.'

Sherlock answered back with a loud and undignified snore, his wings gripping John tighter. John sighed and shrugged. Whatever. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. And Sherlock's wings were really warm. They wouldn't even need blankets. He hummed and nuzzled against Sherlock's chest, listening to the angel's heartbeat as he fell asleep.

* * *

And herein begins the smut! I know you guys have been waiting for it, so here it is! There will be plenty more next chapter as well, so you have that to look forward to ;)

Also, today is InvisibleBlade's birthday, so if you wanted to go to her tumblr (moriartysinvisibleblade) to send her some birthday wishes that would be awesome :)

So yes. Next chapter has plenty more smut and a teensy bit of angst. We'll see you there!

TSA + IB


	8. Experimentation

Hello everyone! Happy Tuesday! While I had the time I thought I'd update this. Then it's back to regular fiction writing instead of fanfiction.

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock  
Me: John, Harry, Mrs Watson, Mr Watson

_Warnings for this chapter: blow jobs, mind/memory manipulation, secret hand jobs in public, personality manipulation, vomiting, angst_

* * *

_'I apologise for what just happened,' Sherlock said quietly as he entered John's dream._

_'Me too,' John blushed, sitting cross-legged in the grass. 'I never meant for it to go that far. I... That was the first sexual thing I've ever done with someone else. Other than in dreams of course, but those don't count.'_

_Sherlock sat next to John and gently rested his head against his shoulder. 'You're something quite remarkable to affect me like you do, John Hamish Watson.'_

_'Thanks, I think,' John laughed softly. 'I just don't want anyone to find out. I'd hate for you to get grounded.'_

_'Then they don't have to find out,' Sherlock said gently, nuzzling at John's neck._

_John moaned softly and arched his neck back. 'Are we... Are we gonna start one of those secret sexual experiment things?'_

_'Interested?' Sherlock asked softly, kissing John's neck. He knew it was wrong, illegal even. But then, why did it feel so right? Why did John make him feel this way? John moaned again and nodded, spreading his legs slightly to accommodate his growing erection. He knew if they were ever found out Sherlock would be grounded and possibly killed. As for himself? He didn't know. His family would disown him, he'd be labeled as a gay Winger for the rest of his life, and his entire future would be thrown away._

_But he didn't care. He cared about Sherlock, he was an excellent angel, his excellent angel, and he knew they could end the experimentation whenever they wanted. So he agreed and he found his lips on Sherlock's in a soft yet awkward first kiss._

_Sherlock froze as John kissed him tenderly. It felt nice to be kissed. His wings flapped in excitement as his heartrate skyrocketed. John hummed softly and pulled Sherlock a little closer, the angel's wings ruffling his hair. He slowly reached up and cupped Sherlock's face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over Sherlock's cheeks. Sherlock moved so he was straddling John's lap and finally broke the kiss._

_'Wow,' he breathed. 'Just... wow.'_

_'That was... nice,' John said softly, holding Sherlock close. 'I can't wait to try it in real life. When we're both awake.'_

_'Mmm. Me too,' Sherlock hummed, chewing on his lower lip nervously. 'There are other things we can try out whilst we're here, you know.' He rocked on John's lap and went back to kissing him._

_'I–' John started but Sherlock was already kissing him. He instantly melted at the tenderness and growled, actually growled, when it became heated and almost passionate. He rocked against Sherlock on his lap and moaned into the kiss, poking his tongue out and prodding at Sherlock's lips._

_'Shall we take this to bed?' Sherlock purred loudly._

_'I-I'm not ready to go that far.' John blushed deeply and looked away. 'Even in my... other dreams... I've never gone that far. I... I'm not ready.'_

_'OK,' Sherlock nodded. 'I understand. I'm fearful of it too.' He went back to kissing John and rocking on his lap._

_'We – uh! – we can – fuck! – would you suck me off? Like I did you? Could you try?'_

_'Mmm. I can try. I still think we need a bed in that case. Just to make things a little more comfortable.'_

_'Yes. Bed. OK,' John panted, placing them on a plush bed, already naked. John spread his legs wide as Sherlock knelt between them, quivering from nerves and anticipation. Sherlock leaned in and hummed, lapping at the head of John's cock nervously._

_'Oh Sherlock,' John moaned, rocking up a little. 'Oh, that's good. That's really good. Mmm.'_

_Encouraged, Sherlock lapped faster before swallowing John's cock in one swift motion. John cried out and grasped the bed sheets tightly, trying his damnedest not to thrust into Sherlock's mouth lest he hurt him. Sherlock began bobbing his head frantically, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping greedily at John's member. John whimpered and took big gasping breaths as Sherlock pleasured him. He wasn't gonna last long at this rate._

_'Sherlock... Gonna cum,' he gasped out in warning. Sherlock growled and hollowed his cheeks, his wings moving to brush past John's bollocks. John gasped sharply and thrust his hips up, the touch sending him over the edge with a harsh cry of Sherlock's name. Sherlock swallowed all John gave and released him. He licked his lips, frowning slightly. He couldn't decide whether he liked the taste of it or not. John collapsed against the bed, panting like he'd just run a marathon. Holy fuck. Holy fuck that was amazing. And had Sherlock really swallowed all that?_

_'You didn't... didn't have to swallow,' he panted, turning to see Sherlock mulling something over. 'I would've been fine if ya... if ya spit or just let me cum all over myself.'_

_'It was the most logical thing to do.' Sherlock shrugged and climbed up John, resting his head on his chest and humming. 'The turn of events between us certainly are peculiar, considering we both hated each other at the beginning.'_

_'Yes. Quite strange and unexpected. Though I think it's mostly because I feel guilty about making you fly into that tree. Maybe this is my idea of an apology? A rather erotic and illegal apology too.'_

_'It doesn't matter either way. All I know is this is the happiest I've felt in a long time. I really needed this.'_

_'Yeah. I'm feeling pretty damn happy too,' John smiled goofily. He hummed and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Sherlock in a tender hug._

_'You know, we should wake up,' Sherlock sighed softly. He didn't want to leave. Not just yet. 'I'm naked in your bed. God forbid if someone walked in on that.'_

_'Yeah, I know,' John hummed, smoothing a hand through Sherlock's hair. 'And we will. Soon. Just not right now.'_

_'Mmm. What are you doing tomorrow? I was thinking I could finally test out my wings.' His wings fluttered excitably and he smiled against John's chest. _

_'Tomorrow?' John poked around in his head. 'Tomorrow is Sunday, so I have to go to church with my family in the morning. Then we have lunch with my aunt after church. And usually after that we come home and do whatever. So, anytime after lunch I'm free. And then Monday I have to go to school. Winter Holiday is over tomorrow basically.'_

_'You could go to church,' Sherlock smirked, 'which I know you don't really want to go to. Or you could be with me completing an angel ritual. Which would you rather be doing, hmmm?'_

_'An angel ritual?' John opened his eyes and looked down at Sherlock. 'Hell yeah I want to help you do that! My mum will let me skip church for that no problem!'_

_Sherlock chuckled darkly and kissed John tenderly on the lips. 'I thought you would. You're not squeamish are you? It involves a little blood.'_

_'Nope. Not squeamish. I'm gonna be a doctor. It would be a terrible career choice if I was squeamish. What's the ritual, if I may–'_

John was ripped from the dream when his sister wrenched him out of bed, slapping him across the face until he woke up.

'What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!' she hissed, holding him up close to her face. 'I come to get you up for lunch and I find you in bed with your angel! Your _naked_ angel, mind you. What the fuck is going on here?! Are you a Winger? A _gay_ Winger?'

John opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words. Thankfully, Sherlock did. Sherlock stood to his feet, pulled John out of his sister's grip, and grabbed Harriet firmly. He leaned forwards and hissed down her ear in the ancient language of his people. He watched in satisfaction as she crumbled to the ground with an audible thud.

'She won't remember a thing,' Sherlock said, sounding smug. 'Now, may I have some clothes before anyone else raises suspicion?'

'Right. Clothes. Yeah.' John rushed into his bathroom and scooped up Sherlock's clothes from the floor. He went back and stepped over his sister, giving Sherlock his clothes. Sherlock thanked John and quickly got dressed. Harry stirred and sat up, holding her head. She looked up at Sherlock, fully dressed, and her brother, getting dressed.

'Oh, good, you're up,' she said, standing and wobbling slightly. 'And your angel's here too. Mum sent me up to get you ready for lunch seeing as you slept through breakfast. And I suppose your angel is welcome to join us if he wants.'

'Thank you, Harriet.' Sherlock watched as she left and breathed out in relief. He quickly pounced on John, shoving him against a wall and smothering his lips with his own. John moaned loudly and wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist, his hands tangling in his hair. He devoured Sherlock's lips, nipping at them and flicking his tongue out to taste them.

'Morning.' Sherlock pulled away as quickly as he had pounced John, smiling broadly.

'Morning,' John replied breathlessly, smiling goofily.

'Come on. Breakfast.' Sherlock smirked and began walking to the kitchen, John trailing after him.

'Lunch,' John corrected him, still smiling like an idiot. 'Think you've worked up an appetite after all we did?'

'I believe I have, yes,' Sherlock laughed lightly.

'Good,' John laughed. 'Me too.' He went into the kitchen and kissed his mum on the cheek.

'Sorry for missing breakfast,' he apologised. 'I was up late researching angels.'

'It's fine dear,' she smiled, kissing his cheek in return. 'Oh. And Sherlock's here too. How are your wings, dear?'

Sherlock smiled chirpily. 'They are far better today, Mrs Watson. I was thinking of going out for a fly later, if the weather of London so allows.'

'Oh good,' she smiled brightly. 'Glad to hear it. Will you be having lunch with us today?'

'Yes, Mrs Watson,' he smiled hugely. 'I'm in a good mood today so I'll be eating more than my usual intake.'

'Oh? Well, good,' she smiled softly. 'Jonathan, why don't you set the table? Harriet, is your father still watching TV?'

'Yes, Mum,' both kids answered. John set to work setting the table for lunch while Harry set about trying to pry their father away from the TV.

'You're super good looking from this angle,' Sherlock whispered behind John.

'Thanks,' John blushed, wiggling his arse a bit.

'Come to think of it. You're super good looking from all angles,' Sherlock mused.

'Even better,' John purred softly. 'You are too. Super good looking. Gorgeous even. Damn. Maybe I am gay.'

'You gave me a blow job and you're questioning your sexuality?' Sherlock hissed sarcastically.

'Of course I am,' John hissed back. 'What if this is just a phase? Humans go through them all the time.'  
'A phase?' Sherlock spluttered. 'A bloody phase?' He sat down at the kitchen table with a loud huff. John sighed and sat down the plates he'd been carrying. He moved over to Sherlock and kissed his cheek gently.  
'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I've just never done this before and I'm scared. I'm scared of both of us getting hurt, scared of getting caught, and scared of getting you grounded. I'm sorry. Seems I'm trying to push you away already.'

'It's OK,' Sherlock smiled weakly. 'I'm scared of all those things too. I just... I really like you.'

'Oh. Well, I suppose I really like you too,' John said softly. 'And I'd like to kiss you again. Just not here. After lunch. We can go out and you can fly and we can find somewhere private to snog.'

'Mmm. That sounds nice,' Sherlock smiled softly. 'Then the angel ritual I tried to tell you about.'

'Right. We'll be doing that tomorrow. What's the ritual?'

'We exchange blood. No big deal really.'

'For, like, a bonding ritual thing?'

'Yes, a bonding ritual thing,' Sherlock smiled softly.

'OK. No problem then. You can explain it fully later. It's time for lunch now.' He finished setting the table just as his father trudged into the room and sat at the head of the table.

'Ah, Mr Holmes,' he said when he saw Sherlock sitting at the table. 'Come to join us I see. Did your meeting with your brother go well?'

'Yes. Quite well, thank you. He was just giving me a briefing on my duty to John.' Sherlock tensed slightly and forced a smile across his face.

'Ah. I see. Giving you instructions on how to properly guard your human. How long has he been guarding his human now? Going on twenty years now hasn't it?'

'I believe so, yes. He's the guardian of Gregory Lestrade, a D.I at Scotland Yard.'

'Ah. Well, good for him. I've heard good things about that Lestrade fellow. A good detective.'

'OK everyone,' Mrs Watson smiled, bringing a large pot of soup out and setting it in the middle of the table. 'Soup's on. Oh, and the bread too.' She dashed back and grabbed the bread, placing it next to her husband.

'Scott, would you say grace, please?' Mr Holmes nodded and held his hands out for John and Harry to take. Harry clasped his and took her mum's hand, John taking Sherlock's, everyone bowing their heads. Mrs Watson held a hand out for Sherlock and smiled gently. Sherlock gently took Mrs Watson's hand and bowed his head out of respect. Mr Watson began saying a typical prayer. John wasn't really paying attention. He was focusing on the warmth of Sherlock's hand and how it sent sparks flying through his body. He squeezed it gently and smiled when Sherlock squeezed back. He managed to say 'Amen' at least when the prayer was finished and everyone started dishing up the soup.

Sherlock let his hands fall back into place. One snaked down and squeezed John's thigh. John grinned and slowly moved Sherlock's hand up until it cupped his hardening cock, rocking against it subtly. Thankfully the tablecloth covered it, otherwise John never would have risked it. Sherlock ate two bowls of soup, something he probably shouldn't have done as he wasn't used to eating so much and was now a little green around the gills. The only consolation was that he was groping John roughly under the table.

John managed to eat a whole bowl of soup without exposing what Sherlock was doing to him. He was touching him enough to keep him erect but not enough to make him cum. But Sherlock accidentally squeezed him a little too hard and John let out a small gasp, grasping Sherlock's wrist so he would let go. Mr Watson turned his sharp gaze to John, noting how flushed he looked. He flared his nostrils and glared at the boy.

'What are you doing, Jonathan?' he asked, growling.

'Nothing, sir,' John swallowed. 'Soup was a bit too hot is all.'

'But you ate all your soup. What are you–' He glanced at John's hands shoved beneath the tablecloth. 'Are you touching yourself at the table?!'

'No, sir! No! I would never–'

'I will not tolerate my boy tainting our eating place with such a filthy action!' he roared, standing up and advancing toward John. 'I won't tolerate it!' He raised his hand to strike John and the boy cowered in his seat, bracing for the hit. Sherlock, seeing what was about to happen, stood to his feet and grabbed Mr Watson's hand in a death grip.

'You will not hit John. You will not hit anyone ever again. Is that understood?'

Mr Watson growled at Sherlock before his face fell compliant, his gaze softening.

'Of course. Yes. Of course,' he nodded slowly. Mrs Watson watched in shock as her husband lowered his arm and sat back down as if nothing had ever happened. She looked to Sherlock, surprise, confusion, and relief swimming in her eyes.

'Sherlock, dear, did you... What did you do?' she asked softly.

'I believe I made an order and Mr Watson complied, miss,' Sherlock grinned.

'So... no more beatings?' she asked, lowering her hands away from her mouth.

'No. I do believe he's learnt his lesson. Haven't you, sir?'

'Yes. No more hitting,' Mr Watson nodded.

'Thank you,' Mrs Watson breathed out in relief. John squeezed Sherlock's hand and mouthed, 'Harry.'

Sherlock nodded and mouthed, 'Later.' He wasn't going to mention how much it drained an angel to change something so large about a person's personality. Feeling weak and suffering from a belly ache from eating far too much for his small stomach, Sherlock stood to his feet.

'I apologise. May I leave the table?'

'Yes, of course,' Mrs Watson said, waving him off. 'We'll be here.'

'Sherlock,' John whispered, still clutching his hand. 'Are you OK? Can I come with you?'

'It's fine, John,' Sherlock faked a smile. 'Eat. I know you're hungry.' He turned around and fled for John's room.

John watched Sherlock run upstairs, frowning. He knew there was something going on with Sherlock. He just hoped he wasn't ill. He sat back down and ate another bowl of soup, the family having a peaceful meal for the first time in, well, ever.

Sherlock found himself by John's toilet, throwing up violently into it. Yup. Food was disgusting. He flushed the loo and hobbled out to John's bed, collapsing onto it with sheer exhaustion and falling into his nightmare of a dream world, hoping dearly John wouldn't come looking for him.

They all heard the loo flush but no one dared mention it. They finished their meal and John and Harry cleared the table. Mr Watson plopped in front of the TV again and fell asleep in the chair, Harry went to hang out with some friends, and John helped his mum do the dishes. He figured he would give Sherlock some time alone and recharge. He looked dead beat after fixing his father, and a bit green from eating all that food. Well, at least he'd know better for next time. He figured on giving Sherlock a couple hours rest before he woke him to go enjoy the cold January day, maybe get some flying in, and hopefully some snog time too. He hummed as he dried the last of the dishes and his mum joined in. When they finished John ventured upstairs to grab a book he would need to finish for school on Monday. Sherlock was passed out on his bed, his wings stretched out completely, dragging on the floor. John smiled and moved around them, not wanting to disturb Sherlock. He got his book and returned downstairs, sat on the sofa, and began to read.

Sherlock tossed and turned in his sleep, his dreams particularly troubling now. He clutched his belly, which still pained him greatly, and he mumbled in his sleep, begging for John. John finished his book and hour and a half later. Whether he retained any of what he read was up to his brain. He planned on skimming it again tomorrow. He waited another ten minutes before going back upstairs to check on Sherlock. But as he walked up the stairs he heard sounds of distress coming from his room. He rushed to his door and threw it open. Sherlock was tossing and turning on his bed, whimpering and calling out to John in his sleep. John dropped his book and rushed to Sherlock, gripping him tightly by the shoulders and shaking him.

'Sherlock! Sherlock, I'm here! Wake up! Wake up!'

'I can't! I can't get out! Not this time! I'm trapped!'

'Trapped? Trapped how? What can I do?'

'Nothing,' Sherlock whimpered weakly before falling silent.

* * *

Sherlock will be OK. He's just being a drama queen. Though he's kind of stuck in his nightmare, he'll escape with some help. So don't worry too much about him. He's going to be fine.

I'm not sure when I'm going to update again unfortunately. I've got a lot of "real" writing to do for school and reading to catch up on. It probably won't be until after my birthday (which is the 14th).

So, until we update again, bye!

TSA + IB


	9. First Time

Hello everyone! Seeing as I took a nap and I am feeling very refreshed and awake, I thought I would update this fic. And at some point I'll be posting a Valentine's Day Gift Exchange fic for the Johnlock Challenges Valentine's Day special. I just don't know when that's going to be. But sometime this weekend. Hopefully today. Fingers crossed :)

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock and Mycroft  
Me: John

_Warnings for this chapter: Sherlock is a bit weak, dark dream images (we go into Sherlock's head briefly), dream sex, anal sex, loss of virginity, accidental sleeping pill overdose (almost)._

* * *

'Sherlock?! Sherlock! Wake up! Please wake up!' John cried, beating on Sherlock's chest and slapping him across the face. 'No! You can't do this to me! Please! You can't leave like this!'

A single tear teardrop fell from underneath Sherlock's eyelid and rolled down his cheek.

'Sherlock! Sherlock please,' John sobbed, burying his face in his angel's chest. He sobbed like a newborn baby, clutching onto Sherlock's shirt tight, his tears wetting the purple material. There had to be something he could do. Someone who could help. The brother? Yes!

'Mycroft!' he wailed. 'Mycroft, I need your help! Please!'

Mycroft heard the cries of his name and responded instantly, appearing in John Watson's room in an instant. His breath hitched at the sight of his baby brother.

'What have you done to him?!' he boomed loudly, his voice holding a clear accusation.

'N-n-nothing,' John hiccupped, turning to Mycroft with red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. 'He fixed... fixed my father. No more beatings. Ate too much. Threw up. Passed out. Can't wake up. Please, Mycroft, help me.'

Mycroft sighed loudly. 'He is but a fledgling. He should not be doing such a rigorous task for his human. They are particularly draining for older angels. It takes a greater toll on younger angels. And I suppose he's trapped in his dream world now. This is far from good. I shall try my best to help him.' He walked closer to his brother and knelt by the bed, ignoring John.

'Hey, Locky,' he whispered. 'It's going to be OK. Just follow my voice. Wake up.'

John moved back and huddled in a corner, wrapping his hands around his knees as he watched Mycroft attempt to rouse his brother. He was shaking like a leaf. He'd need a shower after this. Or a brisk walk. Yeah. Maybe a walk. It might do Sherlock some good too to get some fresh air.

Sherlock could hear his brother's voice beckoning him to wake. He latched onto it and found himself pulled out of the dark. He opened his eyes and whined loudly.

'Mycroft?' he huffed, burying his head in the pillow beneath him. 'What the fuck are you doing here?'

'A pleasure to see you too, brother,' Mycroft sighed loudly, rolling his eyes.

John whimpered slightly from his corner but did not disturb the two brothers. The wrath of an angel, especially an angel like Mycroft, was not something he wanted to face at the moment.

'Go away!' Sherlock growled. 'My head's killing me.'

'Hardly surprising, really, considering what you just did. What were you thinking? You could have gone into a coma!' Mycroft scolded Sherlock, sending a glare in John's direction.

'I knew what I was doing!'

'Clearly,' Mycroft snorted. 'Says the headache that will probably only worsen in days to come.'

'I am more than capable of handling my powers, Mycroft. Now leave.'

'Very well, Sherlock. Do take care. Please ensure that you don't do anything too strenuous for your human for a good long while.' And with that he was gone in a flash of light.

John finally ventured over to Sherlock, crawling on his hands and knees. He shut his bedroom door and locked it, giving them some privacy. He sat on his knees by his bed and peered up at Sherlock, checking him over for any injuries. Habit by now seeing as he was going to be a doctor.

'Are you OK?' he asked in an incredibly small voice.

'I feel like my head's been put through a blender,' Sherlock mumbled. 'Now shhh. If you want to be helpful you can cuddle me.'

John nodded and crawled onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Sherlock in a tender hug, burying his face in Sherlock's shirt.

'I thought I lost you,' he whispered.

'Lost me?' Sherlock cracked open an eye, hugging John tightly. 'Never, John. You could never lose me.'

'G-g-good,' John stammered, clutching Sherlock tight. 'B-because I don't know what I w-would d-d-do without you after... y-you know.'

Sherlock opened the other eye and pulled John into a slightly sleepy kiss. 'Shhh. I'll always be here for you. That's never going to change.'

'Good,' John sniffled, wiping away his tears. He rested his head against Sherlock's chest listening to his heartbeat.

'Will you sleep with me?' Sherlock asked softly.

'Not sure I'm tired enough to sleep,' John sniffled.

'Please. I can't venture back into my dream world. You have no idea of how horrific that is.'

'Is there a way you could make me fall asleep? I'm not really all that tired.'

Sherlock shook his head and groaned. 'I'm completely drained of any power. It would only make me more ill. What about sleeping tablets?'

'My... my mum has prescription tablets. Knock her right out. I could sneak a couple. Can you stay awake long enough for me to go get them?'

'Yeah. That would be good. I'll stay awake for you. Just hurry.'

'OK.' He pecked Sherlock on the lips and dashed out of his room and to his parent's room. Thankfully they were both downstairs, probably having the first civil conversation since John was born, so he was able to sneak the pills no problem. He made it back to his room and locked the door behind him. Sherlock was barely awake, his eyelids drooping and his wings relaxing against the bed, drooping onto the floor. John took the pills and dry swallowed them, climbing into bed and cuddling up to Sherlock.

'Go to sleep, Sherlock. I'll be with you soon. Promise.'

Sherlock finally allowed his eyes to close fully, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. He curled his wings lazily around the blonde haired human and he fell into a sleep. An utterly peaceful sleep. The pills worked fast and soon John was sleeping too, joining Sherlock in a peaceful dream where they were laying on a plush bed in John's meadow, cuddling one another.

_'Thank you,' Sherlock whispered gratefully. 'It's nice here. So peaceful and free.'_

_'I have a feeling we'll be spending a lot of time here when I sleep,' John whispered, brushing a rogue curl off Sherlock's forehead. 'It's wide open and sunny and calm. I love it here. And I love spending time with you here too.'_

_'And it means I don't have to stay in my own dream,' Sherlock shuddered._

_'It's really bad in your dreams, isn't it?' John smoothed a hand over Sherlock's cheek. 'What makes it so horrible?'_

_'Want to see for yourself?' Sherlock swallowed._

_'I don't know,' John whispered. 'I don't think I want to. But... I don't know.'_

_'Please,' Sherlock whispered. 'I want you to see my dream. Otherwise I'll just be buzzing with sorrow.'_

_'I... OK. But, will you...' He grabbed Sherlock's hand and linked their fingers. 'Don't let go while I'm in your head. I don't want to get lost in it like you did.'_

_'I will never let go of your hand, ever, OK?' _

_'OK. Um...' He kissed Sherlock once more before pulling away. 'I just wanted to do that before we went. So, I'm ready when you are I suppose.'_

_'Grab hold of my hand nice and tight and stay close.' Sherlock entwined his fingers in John's as they fell into the darkness of his dream. John clutched Sherlock tight. He had to close his eyes as they crossed over into Sherlock's mind, a bright light nearly blinding him. But having his eyes closed just seemed to make it worse. Because he could hear things, awful things, screaming in agony. He whimpered and clutched Sherlock's hand tight, too scared to open his eyes to see where they were. But it felt dark, damp, and... A dungeon. They were in a dungeon. Sherlock really was a slave. John let out a small cry and buried his face in Sherlock's chest, not wanting to look._

_'Open up your eyes, John." Sherlock whispered. 'It's OK. You're safe with me.' _

_'We're in a dungeon,' he whispered. He opened his eyes and almost immediately shut them. 'And there are chains on the wall. Are they... yours?'_

_'Yes. I am never free, you see? Never.'_

_'But you're free in my mind,' John sniffled, clutching Sherlock's shirt tight with his free hand, clutching onto his other with a death grip. 'I... Can we go? Please? I don't like it here. I don't ever want to see you like this. Please.'_

_'Yes. We may leave. I ... John... make love with me when we return to the meadow. Please. I think I need such a ritual.'_

_'I – what?' John looked up at Sherlock, his face pale. 'I-I-I... What?'_

_'Make love with me, John,' Sherlock deadpanned._

_John swallowed thickly, his eyes wide with fear. 'I don't know what to do. I... I've never done it before. I... I'm scared, Sherlock. I don't think I'm ready to do that yet.'_

_'This is a dream,' Sherlock said, pulling them back into the meadow. 'You can stop any time you like. Just think of this as... practice.'_

_'Right. Dream. Right. Um... Right,' John stammered. He flopped back onto the bed and pulled Sherlock over him, swallowing audibly. 'Um... Hi,' he said lamely._

_Sherlock kissed John lightly. 'Hi,' he replied._

_'We'll just... take it slow, shall we?' John blushed, pulling Sherlock in for another kiss._

_'Slow,' Sherlock hummed in agreement, subtly rocking against John. John hummed and wrapped his arms around Sherlock in a tender hug, spreading his legs slightly so Sherlock fit between them easier. Sherlock was already impatiently hard and throbbing. He grabbed John's thighs and moved faster and harder. _

_'I hope you're happy with yourself, waking up an angel's libido like this.'_

_'I – fuck – didn't know it was my fault,' John groaned, arching his neck back as Sherlock moved against him._

_'You gave me my first ever erection,' Sherlock grunted. 'This is all your fault.'_

_'Oh. Well, you're welcome.' John lazily trailed his hands down Sherlock's shirt, undoing the buttons as he made his way down. 'How do you even wear clothes with your wings? Have they all got slits in the back that they fit through?'_

_'Mmm. Yeah, must do,' he replied, not really listening as he began to bite into John's inviting looking neck. John moaned loudly and pushed his neck closer to Sherlock's teeth. He pushed his shirt off his shoulders and ran his hands down his toned chest, pausing slightly when Sherlock shuddered after he passed over his nipples._

_'Like that?' he groaned out, rocking against Sherlock._

_Sherlock groaned back and nodded. 'Y-es!' he exclaimed enthusiastically._

_John grinned and tweaked Sherlock's nipples with his fingers, laughing in delight when the angel gasped. Sherlock growled at John's laughter and sunk his teeth in deeper into his neck, tearing his top and trousers from him._

_'So, who's doing the taking?' John asked, working on taking off Sherlock's own trousers. He was surprised he was so calm. Well, it was only a dream after all._

_'May I do the honor?' Sherlock asked softly, lapping at the marks he made on John's neck._

_'Think your massive cock will fit up my arse?' John asked, slipping Sherlock's trousers off and tossing them aside. He grabbed a handful of Sherlock's arse and pulled him in close, their naked cocks sliding against one another._

_'This is a dream,' Sherlock gasped. 'Anything is possible. In fact, if you wanted, you could dream that you're already prepared so I can make love to you right now.'_

_'I... Prepared?' John swallowed. 'Prepared how? I've only ever watched straight or lesbian porn, never gay. How – What – I don't know what to do.'_

_Sherlock smiled in amusement. 'Luckily I've been around a good few thousand years. I've seen gay porn before. Good porn too.'_

_'How the hell does an angel know more about gay porn than me?' John sighed, covering his face with his hands. 'I feel like an idiot.'_

_'Boredom,' Sherlock grinned. 'Now shhh.' He sucked on his fingers liberally until they were coated with saliva. 'I'm going to make you feel good.'_

_'Uh... OK,' John swallowed thickly, his cheeks flushing for multiple reasons._

_'This is going to sting a little,' Sherlock warned, swirling a finger around John's entrance and carefully sliding it in. _

_John gasped and squeezed around the intrusion, his hands grasping the sheets tight. 'Fuck.'_

_Sherlock pumped his finger frantically and curled it, finding John's prostate with ease and massaging it like a ball of dough. 'Fuck indeed.'_

_John gasped sharply and arched up, his body trembling from the touches._

_'Oh my god!' he cried. 'What is that? What are you doing?'_

_'__**That**__ is your prostate,' Sherlock grinned._

_'My... My what? Oh god, don't stop. Feels... good but in a strange way. More, please.'_

_Sherlock moved his finger faster and pushed in a second finger, smiling widely. John continued to gasp and whimper and writhe on the bed, Sherlock's fingers doing something wonderful to him. His cock was leaking profusely on his stomach, a small puddle of precum by his belly button._

_'Sherlock! Please! Fuck me!' he cried._

_'How about no,' Sherlock smirked, adding a third finger. 'You're not wide enough.' He scissored John before going back to pumping in and out. John cried out as Sherlock stretched him more, his legs spreading as if that would help him open up more._

_'Sherlock! Please! How much wider do I need to be? Please! I'm begging you! Fuck me now!'_

_'Ready?' Sherlock smirked, replacing his cock where his fingers used to be, shoving it in roughly._

_'Ye– Fuck!' John cried. 'Slow! Go slow!' He pushed against Sherlock's abs to make him slow down. _

_Sherlock groaned and forced himself to slow down, just slowly rocking against John's prostate. John gasped and moaned again, pulling Sherlock down for a searing kiss. He rocked against him, asking him to go a little faster. Sherlock sped up. Faster and faster until he just couldn't slow down. _

_'Ah! Fuck! John!'_

_'Fuck me, Sherlock! Fuck me!' John cried out, clutching the sheets tight. 'Oh god. Harder! Fuck me harder! Pound that virgin arse!'_

_**Holy fuck I'm a dirty bastard.**_

_Sherlock smothered John's lips in his and swallowed the rest of his cries as he jerked his hips more violently. John whimpered, whined, and growled into Sherlock's mouth, parting his lips with his tongue and delving inside._

_'Mmm. Feels fantastic! Oh John! Are you going to cum? Grrr.'_

_'Touch my cock,' John begged, blissfully close to his release but he couldn't get there without being touched. 'Wank me, like you've seen me do. Please. I can't cum without it.'_

_Sherlock grabbed John's cock and began moving his hand along it fast and firmly._

_'Oh! Oh god! Don't stop! Fuck! Sherlock! Oh god! I – I'm cumming!' John cried as he began cumming thickly across his stomach and parts of Sherlock's chest._

_'Me too!' Sherlock roared, cumming powerfully into John's arse._

_John collapsed against the mattress, completely spent, his body twitching with aftershocks of pleasure as Sherlock continued to cum in his arse._

_'Wow,' Sherlock panted as he finished and pulled out. 'Bloody wow.'_

_'Bloody hell,' John panted, turning to look at Sherlock. 'That was... amazing.'_

_'That was bloody fabulous!' Sherlock cuddled up to John, still twitching from pleasure._

_'How much you wanna bet when we wake up we'll be covered in our own cum?' John giggled, cuddling up to Sherlock, pulling the blankets over them._

_'I'd bet that we're completely covered in the stuff. Wouldn't surprise me if we're naked either.'_

_'Well, my door's locked. No one should be coming in unannounced to check on us.' John pulled Sherlock in for a tender kiss. 'How long will you need to sleep for anyway to get your strength back?'_

_'I drained myself pretty badly. A good long while.'_

_'Like, the rest of the day? Because I'm gonna need to get up eventually.'_

_'How many tablets did you take? You may not have much control on how long you sleep.'_

_'Um... Two, I think. Maybe three. I really can't remember.'_

_Sherlock blinked at John in surprise. 'That doesn't sound like a healthy amount to take, John.'_

_'What? My mom always takes two. I'll be fine. I'm not gonna overdose or anything.'_

_'If you say so...'_

_'I'm not,' John reiterated. He pulled a face and rubbed at his chest. 'Though my chest feels a little tight. Is that normal?'_

_'No. Not normal at all.' Sherlock eyed John worriedly._

_'What are you looking at me like that for?' John asked, rubbing his hand over his chest. 'I'm fine. I am. I–' He suddenly spasmed and almost fell off the bed. 'I'm not OK!'_

_'John! John!? What do I do?!' Sherlock grabbed hold of John and held him tightly. 'I – I'm going to wake up. I'll get help! Maybe my powers have recharged.'_

_'Don't rush out naked!' John cried, grasping Sherlock tight. 'Get me dressed and get my mum! Please! Have her dial 999 if she has to! Don't strain yourself! Just– Gah! Get help!'_

Sherlock awoke, gasping for breath. He grabbed John, who was shaking violently, ignoring what he'd told him to do. Instead, he kissed John, transferring the ailment to him. He dropped down onto the floor, fitting and frothing at the mouth.

Sherlock's body burned off most things but one of the few things angels weren't allowed to take was sleeping tablets. And now, since John had taken them, they were in Sherlock's blood stream too.

Sherlock was in deep shit.

John gasped awake and clutched at his chest, his lungs heaving from his near overdose. And Sherlock– Bugger fuck! He was writhing on the floor foaming at the mouth.

'Sherlock, you idiot!' John cried, rushing to his side. 'Why did you do that? You should have just gotten my mum! What can I do to help you? I don't know shit about angels!'

'Hospital! Eh – fuck!'

'Right! Hospital!' John changed out of his soiled clothes and raced downstairs to dial 999. He explained the situation and they said an ambulance was ten minutes out.

'He might not have ten minutes!' John screamed into the receiver. He slammed it down and raced upstairs, completely ignoring his startled parents.

'Sherlock, the ambulance is ten minutes away. Can you survive that long?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'I'm – I'm sorry. This is all my fault.'

'I was the one who took the pills,' John sniffled. 'You were only trying to help me. Can you survive this? I thought angels just burned through human medication?'

'Not sleeping pills. They work too fast,' Sherlock choked out.

'So are... Are you gonna fall back into your nightmare?' John gulped. 'Do you need me to keep you awake?'

Sherlock nodded and wheezed loudly. 'Keep me awake.'

'OK,' John nodded. 'How do I do that?'

'Just keep talking to me...'

'Talking. Right. OK.' John swallowed and pulled Sherlock's head into his lap, propping his feet up on a pillow. 'What... um... What other kinds of rituals do angels have?'

'Human sacrifice.' Sherlock gave a weak chuckle. 'Joking, John, really.'

'You berk,' John laughed softly. 'But really though. What kinds of rituals or whatever do you do?'

'We're quite the party animals,' Sherlock said with a stuttered breath. 'Maybe I'll invite you to a party one day. You'll like it , I think – erh – fuck–'

'Think what? Think what?' John said, slapping Sherlock's cheek to rouse him.

'I – think – fuck – I dunno.' Sherlock closed his eyes and trembled against John.

'No! No! Sherlock! Eyes open!' John cried, pinching Sherlock to rouse him more. 'Don't fall asleep! Stay awake!' He glanced at the clock. 'Just five more minutes, Sherlock. Please!'

'Can't. John I... just... thank you... for everything.'

'No! You son of a bitch! No!' John cried, hauling Sherlock up and slapping him hard across the face. 'You aren't quitting on me! Stay awake!'

Sherlock's breathing had come to a standstill and his heart began to stop. _It's too late for me_, Sherlock thought sadly. _Too bad, I really liked John._

John panicked and moved from under Sherlock, setting him down and moving to apply CPR. He linked his hands and pushed against Sherlock's chest fifteen times before plugging his nose and tilting his head back, opening his airway before blowing two large breaths into him. He repeated this until the ambulance arrived, the paramedics ushering him away and taking Sherlock to the hospital. John could only watch in shock, his mother hugging him from behind, and his father squeezing his shoulder gently.

* * *

Don't worry. Sherlock will survive this too. I don't know why I always end on cliffhangers like this. Maybe I like torturing you all? Maybe... I blame InvisibleBlade. She likes to torture me by doing bad things to Sherlock, so I guess this is just me retaliating. Sorry.

If things go according to plan, I should update Tuesday. So you won't have to wait too long for a resolution.

Until next time!

TSA + IB


	10. Hospital

Hello everyone! Happy Tuesday! Here is the resolution to last chapter's cliffhanger. This one doesn't have a massive cliffhanger, so you can breath out in relief. There's some smut to make up for the angst.

This is all Sherlock and John, no other characters.

_Warnings for this chapter: mention of self harm, mention of bullying, smut, nipple play, anal sex, loss of virginity, flight sex, blow jobs._

* * *

Sherlock was aware of two things when he came to. One, he was in hospital and seriously ill. And two, John Watson was holding onto his hand and speaking to him softly.

'It's gonna be OK, Sherlock,' John whispered, smoothing his thumb over Sherlock's knuckles. 'They pumped your stomach and gave you some proper meds to help with your pain. They say you should be out by tomorrow.'

'It is now you're here,' Sherlock smiled weakly and squeezed John's hand lightly.

'Good to see you smile again,' John said weakly. 'You've been asleep since Saturday.'

'Damn. We missed our ritual,' Sherlock grumbled loudly.

'It's OK. We can do it next Sunday,' John muttered softly. 'It's only Tuesday now, so you'll have plenty of time to heal and gather your powers and strength.'

'You know, I had to do what I did. You wouldn't have survived. It was best that I took your place.' Sherlock reached John's hand up to his lips and kissed it gently.

'Keep the mushy stuff to a minimum while we're here,' John whispered, but he didn't pull his hand away from Sherlock's lips. 'I don't want us to get caught.'

'Mmm. You look exhausted. Wanna dream with me for a bit? I should be resting anyway. Mushy stuff and more can occur in there, right?'

'Right. I could do with a decent sleep anyway. School started yesterday... and so did the bullying again.'

'Bastards. What was it about this time?' Sherlock squeezed John's hand harder, feeling a wave of protectiveness for his human wash over him.

'You,' John sniffled, climbing up on the bed and resting along Sherlock's side. 'Harry's probably spread it around that I got my angel by nearly killing myself. And so all my bullies told me to try again because it didn't take. I... I wasn't going to leave you like that but... I cut myself more because of their words.'

'Oh, John. I'm sorry,' Sherlock sighed softly. 'I wish you wouldn't cut though. Where? Your wrists? Or your thighs? I'll make them all better.'

'Just my arms,' John sniffled. He pushed his sleeves up and presented his arms to Sherlock, more than a dozen fresh cuts littering each one.

'You're letting them win by getting to you.' Sherlock kissed each scar, humming in satisfaction as they faded one by one.

'What else am I supposed to do?' John sniffled, some stray tears falling down his cheek. 'Words can hurt just as much as physical things. Sometimes more so. And I can't exactly ignore them. I tried that once and they only started screaming at me. A few of them hit me. They just... they're persistent and rude and I hate them. I hate them so much.' He buried his face in Sherlock's chest and cried.

'Shhh. I'm here. I'll always be here for you. I'll teach those bullies a lesson they won't forget. They're probably just jealous that you're better than them. You _are_ better than them. Just remember that.'

'Better how? I'm not any smarter than them. And they're bigger than me.'

'No. But you have a pure soul and a big heart. Something they are clearly lacking in.'

'Yeah. OK. Sure,' John sniffled, wiping at his nose. 'Can we go to sleep now? I'm beat.'

'Yes. Come on. Get nice and comfy.' Sherlock pulled John further onto himself and hugged him tightly, resting his head on John's shoulder. John wriggled slightly as he made himself comfortable, resting his head under Sherlock's chin. He hummed softly and nuzzled against Sherlock's chest.

'See ya soon, yeah?' he yawned, gripping Sherlock's hospital gown slightly, holding him close.

'Faster than you can believe,' Sherlock smiled, kissing John's forehead.

_John promptly passed out and was in his meadow, the sun warm on his skin. He breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled softly up at the sky, laying back in the soft grass. Sherlock joined John a moment later, lying beside him and closing his eyes. It was so peaceful here. John grasped Sherlock's hand and linked their fingers, squeezing tight._

_'I've missed being here,' Sherlock whispered. 'Being locked up for days on end isn't fun.'_

_'I... I'm sorry,' John swallowed, squeezing Sherlock's hand tight again. 'I've missed having you here. And around in real life. I coulda used you yesterday and today.'_

_'I apologise. It's my fault. I should have been there for you. I have failed you.' Sherlock looked away from John in shame. _

_'I'm still alive, aren't I?' John said, turning over to rest his head on Sherlock's chest. 'You haven't failed me. You were just recharging after absorbing that pill overdose from me. You'll be released tomorrow around lunchtime, so maybe you can come to my school and join me there. I assume you know where it is?'_

_'Yes, of course. We can fly there if you like.' Sherlock hummed and kissed John's neck. _

_'I'll be in school, silly,' John laughed. 'You can fly there yourself and meet me out front.'_

_Sherlock pouted. 'Fine. I'll fly there all on my own.'_

_'Sorry, but my mum won't let me skip school to stay here. She's been here watching over you though while I've been at school.'_

_'Oh,' Sherlock said softly. 'Does she know what happened?'_

_'She knows that I took her pills to dream with you, yes. And that you woke up to save me from overdosing but made yourself sick in the process. Not sure if your brother's stopped by though. My mum hasn't mentioned him at all.'_

_'I highly doubt it,' Sherlock snorted. 'He's busy preventing world war three.'_

_'Oh. OK.' John sat up slightly and looked down at Sherlock, smiling softly. __'Missed you.'_

_Sherlock grinned. 'Missed you too, John. I missed you a lot.'_

_John grinned again and kissed Sherlock softly, his fingers running through his hair. Sherlock clambered onto John and kissed him more forcefully._

_'Fuck me on the soft grass, Sherlock,' John moaned, spreading his knees and rocking up against his angel._

_'Can't you take me?' Sherlock asked. 'Please?'_

_'Hmmm. I suppose.' John grinned. 'What did it feel like? Having your cock inside me?'_

_'Good... err... very good,' Sherlock stammered, offering John a sly grin back._

_'Mmm. OK. I'll give you a try then shall I?' He started unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt and ran his hands down his chest, tweaking his nipples. Sherlock's breathing hitched and he moaned John's name loudly. John grinned and bent down to lap at a nipple, surprised that he actually enjoyed the feeling of it on his tongue. He hummed and began sucking on it, his hands slipping down to cup Sherlock's buttocks and squeeze. Sherlock shivered and groaned, pushing himself further into John's touch. _

_John released the nipple he was sucking on to go suck on the other one. He loved the wonderful noises he was causing to come out of Sherlock, his cock hardening completely. More. He needed more. He imagined them both naked, Sherlock on his back, already prepped, spread open and wanton. Sherlock purred in appreciation, his wings twitching joyously as he writhed underneath John impatiently. _

_'I, um... I'm gonna fuck you now,' John said nervously. He positioned his cock at Sherlock's hole and swallowed. Holy fuck. He was about to do this. Really about to. What the hell was he gonna do when they did it in real life? Would they do it in real life? The thought made John almost queasy. But he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside Sherlock in one swift push, gasping loudly as Sherlock's tight heat enveloped him._

_Sherlock groaned loudly. 'Oh god!' He moved his hands to grip John's hips tightly, leaving tiny bruises in their wake. _

_'You – fuck – you're warm,' John groaned. 'I never expected it to be so warm. Mmm. Feels... good.'_

_'You're doing an awful lot of talking and not much fucking,' Sherlock grunted, squeezing around John's member._

_John gasped sharply and pulled out a bit, easing back inside slowly. Sherlock was still incredibly tight and it was a little hard to move._

_'You need to relax,' he moaned out, moving back out again. 'I can hardly move in here.'_

_Sherlock wriggled and whined but relaxed. 'Shag me already!'_

_John snapped his hips forward and drove his cock into Sherlock hard, gasping at the sensation. He pulled out and did it again, and again, and again, working into a steady rhythm, fucking Sherlock into the mattress._

_'Faster!' Sherlock gasped loudly. 'Oh god! Faster!'_

_John grasped Sherlock's hips and began pounding into him with no mercy, gasping and panting with exertion and pleasure._

_Sherlock cried out as he was brought to the beautiful edge. 'So close!'_

_'Touch yourself, Sherlock,' John grunted, close to the edge as well. 'I wanna see you touch yourself. Bring yourself off.'_

_Sherlock whined but complied, wrapping his hand around his member, moving it up and down with just the right amount of pressure._

_'I'll teach you how to do this in real life at some point,' John huffed, moving faster. 'That way you can take care of any erections that may crop up in my absence.' He gasped sharply and grit his teeth. 'Close. Gonna cum. You?'_

_'Yes! So close!' Even as Sherlock finished speaking his cum began to splatter out in thick globs._

_'Oh my god! Fuck! Fuck!' John cried as he began cumming as well, long and hard, his entire body trembling. Sherlock grabbed a fistful of John's hair and yanked him over to his nipple. _

_'Suck – suck it,' he gasped, still cumming._

_John complied easily, sucking Sherlock's very tight and erect nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard._

_'Mmm. God. Want another round?' Sherlock asked, wriggling back on John's member._

_John groaned and settled inside Sherlock, still fully hard even after cumming. He laid down on top of his angel and groaned again._

_'Still hard but too tired to move,' he complained._

_Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Fuck me, idiot!' He flipped their positions so he was riding John._

_'Oh!' John gasped, his hands flying to grip Sherlock's waist. 'Oh! This feels fantastic! Move! Please! Don't just sit there!'_

_Sherlock began to move teasingly slow, chuckling softly. John groaned loudly and closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation. Sherlock moved a little faster and moved a hand down to cup John's balls. John gasped and thrust his hips up at the touch, his eyes flying open and looking down at where his cock disappeared inside Sherlock._

_'Do that again,' he gasped._

_Sherlock grinned and squeezed John's bollocks harder. 'Feels good, huh?'_

_'Y-yes!' John cried, moving harder and faster. 'More! Please!'_

_Sherlock squeezed harder and leaned in to suck on one of John's nipples. John cried out and arched into Sherlock's touches. There was so much sensation, too much, he was–_

_'Cumming!' he cried out as he emptied himself into Sherlock's arse again, his body shaking from overstimulation._

_'Me too!' Sherlock cried, cumming all over John's chest. _

_'Fuck! Fuck! Too much! Get off! Please!' John cried, his cock overly sensitive from his two releases._

_Sherlock swiftly removed himself and apologised. 'Sorry.'_

_'It's... fine,' John panted, laying back in the grass. 'Just a bit overstimulated is all. Need to calm down.'_

_'Made you into a melted mess, hmm?'_

_'Oh yes.' John laughed softly, grinning up at his angel. 'A very sated mess.'_

_'Mmm. Good to know I can do that to you,' Sherlock purred._

_'Kinda excited to try it in real life,' John whispered, blushing._

_'Oh. Me too.' Sherlock smiled awkwardly._

_'Nervous too.' John swallowed, looking up at the clouds._

_'Same here,' Sherlock said softly._

_'Shall we get dressed and go fly perhaps?' John asked, sitting up already fully clothed and sporting his brown wings, the feathers fluttering in the breeze._

_Sherlock grinned, already dressed too. His wings twitched madly, begging for flight. John grinned and stood up, his legs slightly shaky from his two powerful releases. He held a hand out for Sherlock, grinning like a mad man. He was itching to fly and he knew Sherlock was too. He could see it written all over him, plain as day. Sherlock grabbed the offered hand and stood to his feet, his wings flapping wildly now._

_They took off simultaneously, still holding hands, and just flew up, up, up until they began to coast, only flapping their wings occasionally to stay in the air._

_'I love this,' John said, turning to Sherlock. 'It's so... freeing. I only wish I had wings in real life. But I suppose having them here is better than nothing.'_

_'You have me!' Sherlock exclaimed, suddenly turning to pounce on John, pinning him in a hug. 'Do you love me too?' he chuckled._

_'I... I suppose, in a way, I do,' John stammered. 'I just don't think I'm in love with you. There's a difference. I love you because you're my angel and because of what we're doing, but I don't love you romantically.'_

_'It's OK.' Sherlock bowed his head. 'I don't expect you to fall in love with me.'_

_'OK. Good. That's, um... good. Cuz I wouldn't want you to get grounded.'_

_'Too late for that. I'm shagging you.'_

_'Not in real life,' John pointed out. 'Just my dreams so far.'_

_'I'm a sentient being. This may be a dream, but I shagged you.'_

_'So I... I'm not a virgin anymore?' John gulped, flushing deep red._

_'Technically... no... you're not.'_

_'Oh my god,' John breathed out, his eyes glazing over as he looked at nothing. 'I... I lost my virginity to my angel. I am so going to Hell.'_

_Sherlock brushed a hand through John's blonde hair. 'No. You're not going to Hell,' he soothed softly. 'I initiated this. I'm the one in the wrong.'_

_'But I participated!' John countered. 'I let you... do that. I could have said no, but I didn't. I wanted it as much as– well, OK, maybe a little less than you but I still wanted it. Fuck! I'm a Winger. I'm a gay or bisexual Winger.'_

_'Titles, John. They're just titles. Do I make you happy? That's all that matters. Your happiness.'_

_'I... I am happy. Yes. Very happy.' He smiled gently and kissed Sherlock softly, humming against his lips._

_'Good.' Sherlock purred like the cat that got the cream and wrapped his legs around John tightly. 'Want flight sex?' He grinned like a maniac._

_'Oh, can we please?' John hummed, sucking a mark onto Sherlock's neck._

_'Oh, god yes!' Sherlock whimpered, spreading his wings out wide._

_John stripped them of their clothes, his mouth barely leaving Sherlock's pale neck. He bit it particularly hard and licked around the indents he'd made in Sherlock's flesh._

_'Who's doing the taking this time?' he asked, nibbling under Sherlock's jaw. 'Because I think it should be you. Your cock felt magnificent inside me last time. I'd like to feel it again.'_

_'Mmm. Yes. I'll take you. Are you going to prep yourself this time?' Sherlock smirked. 'Seeing as you so willingly prepped me.'_

_'I imagined you prepped and ready,' John said matter-of-factly. 'And I'll do the same for myself. So you can just go ahead and start fucking me.'_

_Sherlock grinned, lunging himself at John and pushing himself inside him. John groaned loudly and wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist, squeezing tight. His arms were around his angel's shoulders, his fingers tangled in his curls. His wings flapped enough to keep him in flight but he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to concentrate on flying with Sherlock's enormous prick inside him. Sherlock began to rock slowly, making love to John rather than simply fucking him. _

_'You're beautiful,' he whispered in the blond's ear. 'Quite beautiful.'_

_'Beautiful?' John raised an eyebrow at the adjective. 'Really?'_

_'Mmm. So human. So soft. So fragile. Beautiful.'_

_'I'm not beautiful, Sherlock,' John mumbled softly, looking away from him. 'And I'm not this fragile little thing that could break in your grasp. I'm fairly resilient.'_

_'You're beautiful to me,' Sherlock hummed and rocked upwards. 'And you're more fragile than you like to think. My fragile, beautiful human.'_

_John didn't get a chance to reply. Sherlock was beginning to move in earnest, nudging his prostate occasionally, turning John into an incoherent mess._

_'Beautiful.' Sherlock nibbled John's neck as he made soft love to him. 'Beautiful and mine.'_

_John merely moaned in reply and captured Sherlock's lips with his own, parting them with his tongue and delving inside. It was wet and warm and oh so perfect. Sherlock kissed John slowly and began to speed up, his wings flapping frantically behind him in the gentle breeze. _

_'So close. You?'_

_'Getting there, yes,' John groaned, his wings flapping faster. He reached down between them and grasped his cock, stroking it in the way he knew he liked and was immediately brought to the edge. He was crying Sherlock's name in seconds, spilling himself all over their stomachs. Sherlock clutched John tighter and flapped his wings harder to keep them both in the air, cumming inside of John. _

_'Oh, John, you're perfect.'_

_'So are you,' John grinned, kissing under Sherlock's jaw. 'My perfect angel.'_

_'Mmm. You should wake up,' Sherlock moaned. 'If anyone catches us curled up together...'_

_'Yeah. I know,' John sighed. 'Don't want anyone spreading rumours or getting you in trouble. I'll see ya soon though?'_

_'Yeah. Seeya soon.' Sherlock kissed John softly before pulling away._

John smiled softly and began to wake up, his muscles sore from sleeping in such a weird position. He yawned and slid from the bed, standing up and stretching. It was then that he noticed the cold cum caked in his pants. He groaned loudly and moved to Sherlock's attached bathroom, throwing them in the bin and washing his hands. He ran them down his face to give it some colour and sighed. He checked his watch and sighed again. He needed to get home. His mum was probably worrying about him. He exited the bathroom and watched as Sherlock slowly began to rouse. Sherlock smiled gently at John as he awoke.

'I'll see you soon,' he reiterated. 'I'll take you flying and we'll complete that ritual of mine. Things are gonna get better for you John. I promise.'

'OK.' He smiled softly, moving back over to him and taking his hand. 'I need to go home. My mum's probably worried. I'll see you in my dream?'

'Yeah, OK. Hurry though. Not sure how much longer I can keep my eyes open for.'

'OK. See you soon.' He risked a kiss to Sherlock's knuckles and dashed from the room, running all the way home. When he got there he was good and properly exhausted. His mum had already gone to sleep but he scrawled a note for her to find in the morning. He went upstairs and changed into his pyjamas before climbing into bed. He set his alarm and promptly collapsed on his pillow, falling asleep in minutes.

_Sherlock arrived in John's dream with a gentle thud, his wings outstretched proudly. He grinned at the blonde haired boy and kissed him softly. _

_'Hello you. I missed you. Missed me?'_

_John simply pulled Sherlock in for another kiss, his fingers tangling in his dark curls._

_'I'm taking that was a yes,' Sherlock said, smirking against John's lips._

_'Definitely yes.' John grinned. 'And... I also don't want to go to school tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to the bullies.'_

_'No one will dare bully you,' Sherlock said, his face determined. 'Look at me. I'm one scary ass angel.'_

_'You're a sexy angel. They'll take one look at you and cum in their pants,' John said with a giggle._

_Sherlock wriggled his eyebrows and purred loudly. 'I thought I only had that effect on you.'_

_'Don't underestimate your sexiness. I've seen my sister sneaking glances at you. And I know for a fact that she's a lesbian.'_

_Sherlock snorted. He wasn't sexy. Not in the least. He wasn't good looking. For a human he might very well be, but for an angel? There were far better looking and more powerful angels out there. _

_'I honestly don't know what you see in me. I'm not even that good of an angel. I almost put you in hospital and I've ended up in hospital quite a few times too. And my vessel looks rather odd. Apart from the six pack I don't see a drop of sexiness.'_

_'Do you want me to tell you what I find sexy about you?' John purred, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulling him close._

_Sherlock hummed and laughed softly down John's ear. 'I don't think I need help in making my ego bigger but very well go ahead.'_

_'Mmm. Let's start with that voice, shall we?' John hummed, kissing Sherlock's throat. 'God, it makes my knees weak. I could listen to you read the bloody dictionary and I would hang on every word.'_

_He moved to Sherlock's cheeks and kissed them. 'And these gorgeous cheekbones. God. They're fucking gorgeous. I could cut myself slapping your face, but I'm not exactly keen to try.'_

_He moved further down and tweaked Sherlock's nipples through his shirt. 'Your chest is magnificent. Perfectly toned and sculpted. It's gorgeous.' John fell down onto his knees and gripped Sherlock's bum tight._

_'I'm pretty fond of this too.' He grinned cheekily up at Sherlock. 'And your gorgeous, gorgeous wings. So beautiful. I wish I had a pair so I could fly with you. And last but not least, your cock.' He suckled on the head of Sherlock's cock through his trousers, moaning softly._

_'Oh yes, well, now I come to think of it I am rather sexy,' Sherlock moaned out, his hips jumping upwards slightly as the heat from John's mouth surrounded his cock. _

_'Good. You do see what I see.' He hastily unzipped Sherlock's trousers, his cock springing free, and sucked him into his mouth._

_'Mmm,' Sherlock hummed loudly and looked down at John with lust filled eyes. 'Yes. I see an extremely good looking bloke.'_

_John smiled around Sherlock's cock and sucked harder, wanking where he couldn't reach. Sherlock was absolutely beautiful when he was being pleasured. The flush to his cheeks, his dark eyes, his muscles rippling as he moved. He was so beautiful._

_Pleasure. Such pleasure. Before Sherlock had been made John's guardian angel he hadn't felt a thing like it. Now he couldn't get enough of it. John hummed and began bobbing his head, sucking Sherlock harder. _

**_Come on. Cum for me. Cum! I want to see my beautiful angel cum!_**

_Sherlock jerked his hips and was cumming down John's throat in no time. 'Oh god! John!'_

_John didn't pull away that time. He allowed Sherlock to cum down his throat but he spit the rest out when he pulled away. He pulled a face at the taste and willed it away, looking up at Sherlock who was still utterly debauched._

_'So beautiful,' he whispered, kneading the flesh of Sherlock's thighs with his fingers. 'My beautiful angel.'_

_'Mmm. Your beautiful angel. Always and forever yours.' _

_John could feel his fingers tingling. No! He didn't want to leave yet! But... No. The alarm. It was already beeping. Fuck!_

_'I have to go, Sherlock,' he said quickly. 'School. I... I'll see you at lunch. Meet you at the front doors, OK?'_

_'Yes, alright,' Sherlock smiled as John slowly faded away. 'See ya there.'_

John groaned awake and shut off his alarm. He rolled over and stared at the ceiling, wishing for all the world that he didn't have to wake up and go to school. He forced himself out of bed and into his bathroom, showering and brushing his teeth before getting dressed. He didn't bother with breakfast. He hadn't been eating much lately anyway. He gathered his books and went out to wait for the bus. He got on and sat in his normal spot, avoiding looking at anyone. As soon as he got to school he put his books in his locker, grabbed the ones he needed, and went off to his first class, shuffling his feet the entire way.

* * *

Hope this makes up for the angst last chapter. Sherlock and John have their first day at school together as Guardian and human, and it's a rather interesting adventure ;) I think I can have it up by Thursday or Friday, but I'm making no promises.

See you all next time!

TSA + IB


	11. School Trip

Hello everyone. I am uploading this instead of doing my homework that is due Monday. I am a perfectionist when it comes to procrastinating. This is a bad thing, but right now I really don't care. I just want to eat ice cream and gummy bears and watch TV. But at the very least I've gotten the research portion of my homework done. Now I just have to write it all down.

Also, great news! I'm moving into an apartment! I'm signing the lease on the 28th and I'll be living in an apartment starting in August! Yay! I'm an adult now! I get to pay bills and shit. I need to get a job. Shit.

But I digress...

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock  
Me: John, bullies, Mary  
Shared: John's teacher

_Warnings for this chapter: bullying, physical violence, Sherlock is scary as shit, public masturbation, discipline for public masturbation, John is a dick to Sherlock (again), Sherlock runs away from John (again), cutting, blood loss, suicidal actions, massive cliffhanger (I'm so sorry)_

* * *

Sherlock awoke early, wanting to get to John's school as quickly as possible, but then of course the idiotic nurses wanted to check him out to make sure everything was all in working order. That took him to lunchtime. God, he was going to be late at this rate. He wasn't going to let John down. Not this time. Absolutely no way. He rushed out of the hospital and soared up into the sky. His wings flapped frantically and he flew at such a speed that his lungs began to burn in exhaustion. By the time he arrived at the school he was utterly exhausted but that didn't stop the grin spreading across his face at the sight of John.

John had barely looked up at Sherlock when he heard voices coming down the hall. No. Oh please no.

'Watson!'

Fuck.

'Watson!' the voice said again. 'What are you doing? Little anorexic skipping lunch?'

John ignored him, focusing on Sherlock instead. He was almost there.

'Oi! I'm talking to you shit brick!' He was shoved roughly and fell to the floor, landing on his elbow. 'Look at me when I talk to you faggot!'

John still didn't look at him, didn't even try to get up. Sherlock would arrive soon and kick their arses.

'Yeah! Look a' 'im when he talks t' yous,' another voice chimed in.

'Whatcha lookin' at anyways?' The three boys turned to look out the window and saw Sherlock running across the grass. 'Oh. He your angel? Is he coming to protect his weakling of a human?'

'Shut up,' John finally growled, standing up.

'Excuse me?'

'I said, shut up. Or are you so stupid you can't understand a word I'm saying?'

'Fuck you!' John fell to the floor again, a fist colliding with his eye, and he cried out, landing flat on his bum.

'Little baby gonna cry? You gonna cry, baby? Well, this is what we do to cry babies.' A foot was raised to either stomp him or kick him in the face. John wasn't sure. He just wanted his angel.

'Sherlock!'

Sherlock felt anger bubble in his blood, an intense heat building in his chest, and a strong need to scare the shit out of the little twerp who had just hurt his human. He stormed over to the idiots surrounding John, a fierce growl ripping from his throat. His fists clenched at his side and his lips peeled back to form an ugly grin.

'John Watson is mine. Do you understand? You shall not harm him ever again. Do you understand?'

'Aww, isn't he adorable boys?' The ringleader of the bullies huffed a loud laugh. 'I bet he's a pussy, just like our John here.' He probed a thumb in John Watson's direction. The anorexic pipsqueak was still on the floor, gawping at the scene in front of him.

'I am far from adorable,' Sherlock growled. With a dangerous smile he began to emit fear into the air. All of the bullies began to scream like girls, including the ringleader.

'You will never harm John again,' Sherlock reiterated. 'If you touch a hair on his body I will not hesitate in killing you. Is that perfectly clear?' He pulled back, raised his arm, and smashed the ring leader across the jaw. He punched him over and over, across the jaw a few more times, in the gut, and lastly in the bollocks.

'Come on John, we're leaving.' Sherlock helped John off the floor and began to lead him away.

As for the bullies, they could remain terrified of their own shadows for a good few days. That would teach them not to touch John.

John held his free hand to his bruised eye as Sherlock lead him away. He had never seen that side of Sherlock before. That was actually quite terrifying. He swallowed audibly as Sherlock lead him away and back towards the cafeteria.

'Not hungry,' he mumbled. 'Don't force me to eat.'

'At least have a snack. I know for a fact you missed breakfast,' Sherlock pleaded. He stopped walking and turned to John. 'But first let me fix that.' He placed his hand over John's swollen eye and healed it till it was good as new.

'OK. Fine. I'll get some crisps out of the machine.' John pulled out his wallet and inserted a bill into the machine, punching in the number of his selection. It plopped down and he reached in to grab it, noting how much better his eye looked already.

'Thanks for that back there,' he said, opening the crisp packet and popping one into his mouth. 'And for fixing my eye.'

'It's what I'm here for, isn't it? Fixing you. Being your guardian angel.'

'Yes. I suppose it is.' John popped another crisp in his mouth and chewed slowly. 'So... now what? Do I just go about my normal school day?'

'You could. Of course you could. But wouldn't you enjoy a nice fly? And maybe–' He whispered the next part. 'We could make love for real.'

John nearly dropped his crisp packet at Sherlock's words. Was he ready for that?

'I... I can't just skip school for that. L-later, after school. We can go fly and find a nice spot to snog. And then... then we can go home and I'll... I'll have sex with you.'

'Yes, but no one's at your home right now, correct? If we go now we can have at least a couple of hours of fun.'

'I can't. Sherlock, I can't. I can't just leave my classes right now. These are the important ones that will get me into med school.' The bell rang and John shoved a handful of crisps in his mouth, walking back to his locker, Sherlock in tow. 'After school. I promise. I only have a few hours left.'

'Mmm. I guess I have to sit in on said classes. Don't blame me if I sexually frustrate you during it.'

'Just keep quiet and I think we'll be OK,' John said as he reached his locker, pulling out his medical textbooks and walking to class.

'I'll be quiet. You on the other hand...'

'Shush. If you get me in trouble I swear–' He paused and looked around, making sure no one would overhear. He then leaned in close to Sherlock and whispered, 'I won't shag you later tonight. Nor will I allow you to attempt to shag me with that monster cock of yours. Don't get me in trouble.'

Sherlock huffed and whispered back, 'Deny me that and I'll deny you a month's worth of dream sex.'

'Then don't get me in trouble and we won't have a problem,' John said as he entered the classroom. The teacher had yet to arrive, as usual, so John took his usual seat and gestured for Sherlock to sit next to him.

'It's a pretty empty class, so you can take a seat,' he explained. 'There's only a handful of us in here.'

Sherlock took a seat beside John and grinned at him giddily. 'I'll try not to distract you too badly then.'

'Good. This is my career field. So don't make me miss the lesson.' The teacher walked in then, followed by the other students. They all sat as he wrote something on the board. John opened his notebook and scrawled it down.

'OK class,' the teacher said, turning around. 'Today we're– Oh. Seems we have an angel with us today. Is he yours, James?'

'Uh... It's John. But yes, he's mine.'

'John. Right. Yes. Sorry,' the teacher apologised. 'I'm terrible at names. But I'll get there. So, what brings you to human anatomy? Interested in learning more about a human's biology?'

Sherlock forced a smile on his face. He didn't like the teacher, not one bit. 'I suppose in a way that's why I'm here. I hope you don't mind me sitting in. I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.'

'Nice to meet you, Sherlock,' the teacher said with a smile. 'If you have any questions, don't be afraid to speak up. OK. So, as I was saying, today we'll be reading more about cells, mitosis, and meiosis. Just a refresher course from your prerequisite biology class. Then we'll move on to organ systems.' He turned back to the board and wrote a page number on it, opening his own book and putting it on the projector.

John wasn't really listening. He had this stuff memorised from his biology class last semester. He sighed and sunk down in his chair, utterly bored.

Sherlock watched John from the corner of his eye and smirked to himself. John was bored. Sherlock was equally as bored and in need for some amusement. He snaked one of his hands under his desk and pushed it down into his trousers. He fondled his own balls and began to wank himself slowly. All the while he managed to stay completely calm and focused on the class. This little performance was all for John.

John saw movement from Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over and paled instantly. What the fuck?!

'Sherlock,' he whispered quietly. 'What are you doing?'

'Shhh,' Sherlock hushed John softly, his movements speeding up. 'I'm learning all about human biology.'

'The hell you are,' John hissed back. His trousers were beginning to feel tight as he watched Sherlock work himself faster. He squeezed his legs together tighter, not wanting to spread then open and risk rutting against his own jeans.

Sherlock's lips twitched in amusement. His hips jerked upwards and he squeezed his prick tighter. Teasing John was fun indeed. John whimpered softly and snaked a hand down to cup himself, whimpering again from the touch. Fuck. He could probably cum like that, watching Sherlock touch himself. Oh fuck. He was. He was gonna cum. He wrenched his hand away before he had the chance, panting slightly. Fuck he was gonna be in so much trouble if he was found out. Sherlock snuck a cheeky wink back at John before facing the front again. He slid a little further down in his chair, jerked his hips more insistently, and came with a quiet whimper.

_Fuck it._ John returned his hand to his throbbing prick and rut against it twice before he came, barely muffling his groans.

'John Watson what on Earth do you think you're doing?!' the teacher exclaimed, eyeing his student carefully. Sherlock quickly removed his hand from his trousers and bit his lip nervously.

'N-nothing, sir,' John stammered, removing his hand from his crotch, swallowing audibly. He sent a glare over to Sherlock.

'I don't think such behavior as touching yourself in my class is nothing, young man! Now get out! I will not tolerate such things! The headmaster will hear about this, and your parents too!'

John groaned and gathered his books, stomping out of the room and toward the headmaster's office. Great. Fucking great. Third day of school and he was already in trouble.

Sherlock quickly excused himself from the room and hurried after John. 'Hey, look, I'm sorry. I'll get you out of this, promise.'

'Shut up,' John growled, plopping down on a bench by the office. 'Third day back, _third day,_ and I'm already in trouble. And for cumming in my bloody pants no less. Thanks a whole fucking lot.'

'Should I... should I go? Let you have some air to breathe.'

'No. You can stay. You said you can help me out of this, so help me. I don't want to get suspended for jerking off in class.'

'OK. But, uh... then I'll go. Just for a little bit. I can see you need some time to cool off. You're not particularly happy with me.'

'Ya think?' John spat. 'I'll definitely need some time to myself after this. Thank god I only have two classes left. I'll see you at home. Then we can talk or whatever.'

Sherlock nodded briefly and curtly walked into the headmaster's office.

'Excuse me? Haven't you heard of– oh. Hello there. I'm terribly sorry. I wasn't aware that you were an angel.'

'Hello. I'm Sherlock Holmes. Look, I'll make this quick. John Watson is not at fault. It was all a misunderstanding, OK?' Sherlock used a little of his powers to influence the headmaster.

The headmaster nodded. 'Yes, of course. Send him back to his classes.'

Sherlock smiled. 'Thank you.' He walked back out of the office and without making eye contact with John said, 'Everything is sorted. I apologise. I will see you later.'

'Might wanna glamour my teacher or whatever the hell it is you do,' John grumbled. 'He won't let me back into class after that.'

'Fine.' Sherlock trotted off to the class and explained everything to the teacher before returning to John. 'You can go in now. He's fine.'

'Thanks. See ya at home.'

Sherlock nodded and watched as John walked sulkily back to class. He'd really screwed up this time, hadn't he? He left the school quickly, not wanting to hang around a moment longer. As he flew to the Watson residence he felt wave after wave of guilt consume him. What the fuck had he been thinking?! John had asked him not to get him into trouble and he had. What kind of angel did that make him? A bloody shit one was the answer.

The house was empty when he arrived which was probably for the best, considering how wound up Sherlock was. He raced up the stairs and into John's room. He was shaking with emotion. God, why did he have to always screw things up when it came to John? Scratch that. Why did he always have to screw up full stop? He was a shit angel. He didn't deserve someone as good and big hearted as John.

Sherlock let out a choked sob of 'I'm so sorry, John.' It was useless though. John couldn't hear him. Their bond was fairly new so their psychic link wasn't particularly strong. Tears dripped from his eyes and cascaded down his cheekbones, landing with a horrible splash on the floor beneath him. It was then that he caught sight of it. A box of blades. John used these to hurt himself on a regular basis. Sherlock was supposed to protect him from doing that. He'd failed. He was a failure.

He grabbed a fresh blade and held it between his finger and thumb, inspecting it carefully. Why did John cut? He was only punishing himself. Punishing himself... Sherlock had wronged John. Sherlock was the one who deserved to be punished. Before he could stop himself he was standing over the sink in John's bathroom, a blade held to his wrist. He cut off what link he and John did have so John wouldn't be able to feel his pain and he sunk the sharp object into his skin.

As an angel he healed quickly which only meant he had to make deeper marks and more of them. The blood pooled out of the cuts over his pale skin and fell into the sink. It was painful but a good sort of pain. He felt clean and less of a failure. Sherlock waited till he'd lost at least three pints of blood before washing his cuts. He pocketed the blade. Who knew when he'd need it next?

Sherlock collapsed onto John's bed weakly, his wings curling limply over him. God. He was such a fuck up. Falling for a human and failing to protect him. He deserved to be dead.

**...::-::...**

John sulked for the rest of the day, alternating between completely pissed and guilty. What the fuck had Sherlock been thinking? Jerking off in a classroom was one of the worst things you could do. He scowled as he made his way to his next class, not even noticing the other person who'd sidled up next to him.

'John?' The boy blinked and turned to see Mary beside him, a look of utter concern on her face. 'Are you OK?'

'Mary. Oh, yes, just mad at my angel. He got me in trouble.'

'What kind of trouble?'

'You don't want to know. Trust me.'

'Oh. Um, OK. Well, wanna walk to class? We have the same English class after all.'

'Yeah. Sure,' John said, smiling softly at her.

'No problem.'

They sat together and worked on their in-class essays, chatting occasionally when the teacher was talking. God it was good to talk to Mary again. He'd forgotten how wonderful she was after all his shit with Sherlock.

'So... the Valentine dance is next month,' Mary said suddenly, very quiet, which was unlike her. 'Were you thinking about going?'

'Isn't that the dance where the girls ask the boys?'

'Yeah.'

Something clicked in John's brain. 'Are... Are you asking me to the dance?'

'Um...' Mary blushed, another thing unlikely for her to do. 'Y-yes. I... I think I am.'

John couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. Mary was asking him to a dance?! A legit dance?! Holy fuck! Maybe his luck was turning around!

'Yeah. Yeah, I'll go with you,' he answered, smiling broadly at her.

'Really?' Mary perked up, smiling shyly. 'I mean... cool. It's cool.'

'Yes. It's very cool.'

**...::-::...**

John and Mary walked home together after school, chatting animatedly. She was going into a teaching career, changing her mind again from being a nurse. She wanted to teach the younger generation, primary school perhaps. Maybe public like Harrow if she could get hired. John told her of his new dream of becoming a doctor and she smiled at him in encouragement.

'You'd make a great doctor, John. You have a wonderful disposition. People will love you as their doctor.'

'Thanks.' John grinned back, blushing slightly at her praise. 'Well, this is me. I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Tomorrow.' She grinned and waved as she walked to her own house, just down the road, and John watched her leave. God she was perfect and beautiful and smart and so caring. She'd be a great teacher. He hummed softly and entered his house. His mum was cooking supper, his father watching TV. Seems despite his personality change his habits hadn't. John kissed his mum on the cheek and went to his bedroom. Sherlock was asleep on his bed, curled in on himself. John deposited his homework on his desk and went into his bathroom to use the loo. When he saw the blood in the sink his heart nearly stopped. Where had that come from? He ran back out to Sherlock and held a hand to his forehead. Clammy, cold, he was shivering and deadly pale. Fuck!

'Sherlock?' he said softly, shaking his shoulder gently. 'Sherlock, wake up please. I wanna talk to you.'

'Not now, John. Sleeping,' Sherlock mumbled. 'We'll talk later, OK?'

'No. We're talking now.' John pulled Sherlock into a sitting position and propped him up with pillows. 'What I want to know is why there's blood in my sink.'

'Angels are known for our animal sacrifices. Sorry. I was in the mood for one. Don't look at me like that. I feel and look like shit because my body is still recovering from the overdose I took over from you. I don't know what you think I've done but I haven't. Please let me sleep. I need it.'

'Oh. Animal sacrifice? What ritual? What animal?' John asked skeptically. He noticed the box of blades open on his floor, pushed haphazardly under his bed. That was _not_ where he left it.

'Liar,' he growled. 'You cut yourself. Almost bled yourself dry. What the fuck?! Was this about getting me in trouble? It was, wasn't it? Sherlock, why? I wasn't going to be mad at you forever? Why would you hurt yourself like that?'

'John, I used a blade to kill the fucking animal. Which by the way was a rabbit. Shop bought of course. Not quite as good as a wild rabbit. But it did. Why would you even imply that I'm suicidal? John, if I had cut you would have felt it. Angels don't feel suicidal. Learn your facts before you accuse me of something I haven't done, alright?'

'That's not bright enough for animal blood!' John countered. 'It's dark, human, or from a human vessel. And all that blood didn't come from a fucking rabbit! There's too much! So _you_ get your fucking facts straight before you lie to me!'

'You know what? My first impression of you was correct. You are just a little, attention seeking, stuck up brat,' Sherlock snarled, standing to his feet, towering above John. 'I'm off. Do enjoy life John Watson. I'll request a transfer of humans right away. Goodbye!' Sherlock was out of the house before John could protest.

'Good fucking riddance you fucker!' John hollered after him, slamming his window shut with a huff. 'Who needs him? He's been nothing but trouble since he arrived.' He sat down and busied himself with his homework, not bothering to eat dinner. He didn't need food. He didn't need any_one_ or any_thing_. He reached into his box of blades and cut some fresh notches into his arms, bandaging them up before going to bed.

That night, the blade Sherlock had taken dug into his flesh again. This time there were more cuts and they were far deeper. The blade also moved to his throat, cutting into it deeply, and both his thighs. Sherlock slid to the floor in a back alley somewhere, passing out from severe blood loss.

* * *

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't kill me. At the very least you only have to wait a couple of days for the resolution because I'll be updating this again on Tuesday because this is such a shitty cliffhanger I'm so sorry. To set you all at ease, Sherlock survives. But he isn't exactly happy about it at first. Also, we're nearing the rapey bits. That comes along in chapter 15, so I'm warning you four chapters in advance. I'll put a warning in the chapter too so you can skip it if you don't want to read about it. Chapter 15 is also when the Mpreg warning come into play. Yes, what you just read is true. I'm not going to divulge much further as I don't want to basically give away the whole plot of the chapter.

I'll see you guys again on Tuesday when I update so this horrendous cliffhanger can be resolved.

TSA + IB


	12. Rescue

Hello everyone! Happy Tuesday. I am currently Skyping with InvisibleBlade and we're arguing over the pronunciation of Tuesday. It's rather funny.

This is to fix the dreadful cliffhanger from last chapter. I hope this helps.

InvisibleBlade: Mycroft, Sherlock, Mrs Hudson  
Me: John

_Warnings for this chapter: Mycroft is a bit of a dick, mentions of blood and blood loss, vomiting, emotional Sherlock, angst, and some fluff at the end._

* * *

John twitched and whimpered in his sleep, feeling very weak indeed. He blinked as he began to wake, taking in his dark room and then the figure looking over him.

'Mycroft!' he nearly screeched, almost falling out of bed as the angel's presence startled him. 'What are you doing here? Presenting me my new angel?'

'New angel?' Mycroft questioned sharply. 'No, you idiotic child. This is about your current one. I believe him to be in great danger. I can't locate him. He's gone off the grid. You're my last hope. Reach out to him. Tell me what you find.'

'D-danger?' John gulped. 'What kind? And how do I reach out to him?'

'I don't know what kind. It's just a terrible hunch of mine. Try using your mind. You're connected. Search for him.'

'Um... OK.' John closed his eyes and began thinking of Sherlock, feeling himself reach out and trying to find him. He did, and he didn't like what he saw.

'I... I found him.' He swallowed thickly. 'But I don't know his exact location. And... it doesn't look good at all.'

'Not good how?'

'There's... a lot of blood.' John swallowed, trying to find Sherlock's location. 'He's... alive. I think. Just passed out from blood loss. He's in an alley somewhere. Somewhere quiet. He's... I don't know. I can't see any buildings or street signs.'

'Dear lord. I'll go flying and I'll search the back alleys. You can help me. He's your angel.'

'Help how?' John asked, opening his eyes and looking at Mycroft. 'I don't know what to do. They don't teach us this in school. And you can only learn so much from books. I've only made a dent in my research as it is. Tell me what to do. Please. You've been at this longer than I have. Please. I... We may have had a massive row but I don't want Sherlock to die.'

'You'll search on foot.' Mycroft sighed loudly. 'Remember how he enters your dreams? I know it's a lot to ask, but go into his dream.'

'I thought I could only do that while we were asleep?'

'No. You should be able to do it now too. Hurry. He could be dying,' Mycroft growled loudly.

'Stop making me nervous! It's not helping!'

'He could be dying! Get onto it, pronto!'

'Ugh! Fine!' John closed his eyes and honed in on Sherlock again, attempting to break into his mind. How the fuck did someone even go about doing that anyway? Suddenly he could see the dungeon walls behind his eyelids and swallowed thickly. Sherlock was chained to the wall, a great deal brighter than he was used to seeing.

'I'm in,' he told Mycroft. 'What now?'

'Go to him. You'll need to try and get a location from him.'

'And if he doesn't tell me?' John swallowed, dreading the answer.

'Then it's likely he'll die and you'll receive a new angel.'

'Wait... Is that how we get new angels? If our current one dies? Sherlock said he was gonna get me a new angel. Was... was that him saying he was going to kill himself?'

'He said that?' Mycroft gasped. 'Yes, I'm rather afraid that the only way you're getting a new angel is if your current one dies.'

'Oh my god.' John returned to Sherlock's dream, seething mad. 'Sherlock! How dare you threaten to kill yourself to get me another angel! I don't want another angel! I want you!'

'It's done, John. I'm dying.'

'The fuck you are! Tell me where you are. I'm not letting you die!'

'I... I think I'm near your house. I don't really know.'

'Look around. Wake yourself up enough to find any distinguishing features. Buildings, street signs, awnings with shop names. Please! I don't want you to die!'

'Wait. I can hear a voice–' Sherlock was awoken abruptly by a kind looking woman shaking his shoulder.

'Oh, you poor dear. What happened to you? I've called an ambulance. Don't you fret. You'll be OK.'

'Fuck!' John cried, wrenched from Sherlock's dream. 'He... He woke up. No. Some_one_ woke him up. He's been found at least. Check local hospitals. When you find him, please tell me. I want to apologise to him.'

Mycroft glared at John. 'What exactly did you two argue about?'

'He got me in trouble at school. I got mad. He left,' John answered softly, looking away from Mycroft's harsh glare.

Mycroft's glare intensified. 'Now try the whole truth, John. There's more to it than that.'

'I... I came home and there was blood in my bathroom sink. Sherlock was asleep and deadly pale, so I knew it was from him. He... He used one of my blades to cut into himself. We argued about it and he left, stating he was getting me a new angel or a transfer of humans. He must have taken the blade with him. Don't hit me!' he cried when Mycroft raised his fist, cowering in the corner of his bed and covering his face with his arms, shaking like a leaf.

'You idiot! You let him go when you knew something was wrong! What on Earth is wrong with you?!'

'Everything! Everything, OK?! I'm anorexic, I'm depressed, I'm suicidal! So _everything_ is wrong with me!'

Mycroft growled and threw his arms up in the air in pure frustration. 'Come on. I have a feeling I know which hospital he'll be taken to.'

John threw his sheets off and put shoes and a jacket on, not bothering to get out of his pyjamas and get properly dressed.

'OK. Let's go.'

Mycroft nodded. 'When we get outside, jump onto my back. It'll be quicker that way.'

'OK. But I've never ridden an angel before. So, I might choke you when you take off and land.' He quietly lead Mycroft downstairs and scrawled a note for his mum, telling her he'd be at the hospital as Sherlock had had another accident. He led Mycroft out the door and stopped at the base of their driveway.

'OK. Let's get going.' He swallowed nervously. He hadn't had a chance to ride Sherlock yet, and was even more nervous about riding his brother. He was a very menacing angel indeed.

Mycroft knelt down for John. 'Choke me and I'll throw you off.'

'Then I'll try not to choke you.' John clambered on and held tightly onto Mycroft's shoulders, his legs clamping around his waist. 'OK. I'm ready.'

Mycroft grumbled a reply under his breath before taking off into the sky, his wings flapping frantically in the rush to get to his baby brother. John closed his eyes and held on tight. Mycroft's flight was erratic and he kept swerving to bypass trees and buildings. John knew for a fact he was going to throw up the second he was back on his own two feet. It happened at amusement parks all the time after he got off particularly brutal roller coasters. Mycroft raced to St. Bart's frantically, almost tripping as he hit the ground with a dull thud. He shrugged John off of him.

'Come on. We must look for him.'

John stumbled off to the nearest rubbish bin and violently threw up into it, expelling the few crisps he'd eaten at lunch. Now he was dizzy and lightheaded. Fuck. He needed food. His blood sugar was too low.

'I need food,' he gasped out, clutching his head. 'Haven't eaten all day.'

'Here. Have this.' Mycroft passed him an apple. 'Not a good flyer, hmm?'

'I don't do well with sharp turns,' John said, biting into the apple. Sweet and juicy and oh so delicious. He hummed and followed Mycroft into the hospital, eating his apple all the while.

'Have they added the special angel wings to hospitals yet?' he asked as they roamed the halls. 'Or are they still only available in select locations like this one?'

'They've begun to put up some signs. Follow me. If he's here he'll be in this section.' Mycroft strode down a corridor with a sign picturing angel wings hung from the ceiling. John tossed his apple core in a bin and sucked the remaining juices from his fingers. He followed Mycroft dutifully until he stopped in front of a room. Sherlock was inside hooked up to bags of blood and some machinery, monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure.

'Oh thank god,' John breathed out in relief.

'Mmm. My thoughts exactly. My God. He's cut into his neck, too. What on Earth possessed him to do such a thing?'

'This looks like it was about a lot more than just our row at school,' John mused, moving into the room. Sherlock was out cold, his mouth open, and he was snoring slightly.

'Are you certain it was the row he was so broken up about? It wasn't something else?'

'It appeared so,' John said softly. 'I don't know what else it could be.'

'My brother always has had suicidal ideations. He's never acted on them however. Not until now.'

'He said angels couldn't be suicidal.' John frowned. 'Maybe this was about him feeling like a failure. He protected me from my bullies but then accidentally got me in trouble in class. I don't know what was going through his head, but he seemed really upset.'

'Angels aren't supposed to feel suicidal. We aren't supposed to feel anything. But then, Sherlock isn't most angels. He doesn't cope with suppressed emotions. Love, anger, fear, feeling like a failure. It brews inside of him and makes him do idiotic things.'

'Like try to kill himself,' John surmised.

'Yes. Well, with you as his human, it's hardly surprising he took this route.'

'What is that supposed to mean?' John asked, looking at Mycroft sharply.

'That you only increase his suicidal thoughts. You practically handed him the blade for goodness sake,' Mycroft growled, looking sharply back at John.

John growled right back, standing his ground. He wasn't going to let this bully of an angel intimidate him. If only he had been like this with his human bullies.

'Sherlock is good for me,' he growled. 'Since his arrival I've eaten better and stopped cutting. I only relapse when he's gone for long periods of time. He's healing me, slowly but surely, and he's becoming a good friend. So don't you _dare_ accuse me of nearly murdering him!'

'So?! You've been cutting, John! How do you think that makes him feel?! Of course he feels like a failure!'

'I cut because he was in a mild coma due to saving me from a sleeping pill overdose!' John yelled back. 'Where were you during that ordeal? Because I was there every day after school until dinner and I never saw you once!'

'I _was_ there! I came every night!'

'Every... Shit.' John turned away and sat on the bench by the window. Fuck. Had Mycroft seen them cuddled up together?

'Yes, I saw,' Mycroft answered John's silent question.

'I can explain that,' John said quickly. Perhaps a bit _too_ quickly. 'I was tired. I hadn't been sleeping so Sherlock offered to let me nap with him. Apparently if we're in close contact it sharpens the shared dream. So... I cuddled him. But that was all! I swear! I'm not a Winger! And I don't want Sherlock to be grounded.'

'I would never report my own brother. But I can tell what's really going on and I must ask you to stop. It's not healthy, for either of you.'

'Really going on? Mycroft, there's nothing going on between your brother and I beside jitters about being new to each other. We're still adjusting, learning one another. There's nothing else going on. I swear.'

'I've seen your dreams, John.'

John paled dramatically. 'How?'

'I like to check on Sherlock every now and then. I didn't like what I saw.'

'Fuck,' John groaned, hiding his face in his hands. 'I... I can't lie my way out of that one. But, if it helps, I have a date with a human girl this Saturday. I should be able to keep myself away from Sherlock that way.'

'Good. If Sherlock asks for... sex, don't give it to him. Believe me, people get hurt when an angel and a human fall in love. I know far too well of how it can destroy bonds. You may not love him in such a way, but don't be so sure that Sherlock feels the same. I think he's fallen for you hook, line, and sinker. Just look at him. Go on. Look.'

John swallowed and looked at Sherlock. He didn't see what Mycroft could, but Sherlock did indeed look... broken. John sighed loudly and looked back to Mycroft, feeling a little broken himself.

'I'm sorry. I never meant for feelings to develop. I didn't even want this to happen at all, this sexual experiment. But I was horny and Sherlock was there and we just... well, you already know. But I'll put a stop to it. I don't want either of us to get hurt or damned or whatever.'

'Good to hear. Because from what I can gather, he doesn't see this as a sexual experiment. He sees it as far more.'

'Right. Yeah. No more sex.' John nodded slowly. 'Are you going to stay here? Because I can't. I have school in the morning.'

'Don't you think Sherlock is more important right now? You can always take catch up lessons. I'm afraid Sherlock won't be happy I'm here.'

'Yeah. My angel is more important right now. And it's early in the semester. It's all still review right now. So, yeah. I'll stay. Thanks for bringing me here though.'

'You're welcome. Ah. He's waking up. I should go.'

John nodded and watched Mycroft disappear in a burst of light. Holy shit. That was pretty cool. He turned back to Sherlock and took a seat by his bedside, trying to make himself appear calm.

Sherlock winced his eyes open and groaned. 'Am I dead?'

'No,' John answered softly. 'You're in hospital. Lost a lot of blood.' He picked up Sherlock's chart and read through it. There were some aspects he didn't understand but he understood enough to know what was going on and how Sherlock was being treated.

'Apparently a woman named Mrs Hudson found you in the alley between 221 Baker Street and a little sandwich shop. She called the ambulance and they got you hooked up to fluids and blood. The chart says you'll be here until tomorrow. They want to make sure your body accepts the blood and that you won't try to kill yourself again.'

'I can't promise anything. It felt so good. I felt so free, John. I was beautifully happy. I can see why you cut now.'

'I don't cut to feel that,' John frowned. 'I cut to not feel at all. To feel numb to everything.'

'Angels can't feel anything,' Sherlock giggled. 'But pain. God. The pain was bliss.'

'Can't feel anything?' John scowled. He took a bold risk and moved to press a kiss to Sherlock's knuckles. 'I know for a fact you felt that. Your heart started beating faster.'

Sherlock tugged his hand away. 'Don't touch me like that, John.'

'Fine. We need to stop doing that anyway.' John sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. 'Mycroft knows.'

'What?' A tear dribbled from Sherlock's eye.

'Mycroft knows about us,' John repeated. 'And I think it's in our best interests to stop having dream sex and kissing and all that.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'No. I – I don't want it to end.'

'It has to, Sherlock,' John said softly. 'It's illegal. It got me in trouble in school. And your brother basically said if it didn't end then he'd break our bond and end it himself. That's what I took from it anyway.'

'No!' Sherlock screamed, a flood of tears coursing down his face. He lunged forward, ripping the wires he was attached to out, and grabbed John by the face and pushed his lips onto John's.

'N-no. P-p-please.'

'Sherlock! Stop!' John protested, pulling back. 'We can't do this! And look what you did to yourself! You ripped all your wires out! Shit!'

A medical team came rushing in and pushed John aside, holding a very emotional Sherlock down and reattached his IVs and wires. They injected a mild sedative into him to help him relax, a glazed look now in Sherlock's eyes. They left, glancing over to John but said nothing. John returned to Sherlock's side, his gaze apologetic.

'I'm sorry, Sherlock, but it has to end. We can't continue like this. It isn't healthy. Can we please to back to a platonic angel-human relationship? It really is for the best.'

'Too late. I think I'm in love with you.'

'Sherlock, you don't even _know_ me,' John sighed. 'Apart from the file or whatever you have that tells you _about_ me, you don't _know_ me. You can't possibly love me.'

'I do! You have no right to tell me how to feel!'

'You don't know _what_ you're feeling! You said yourself that angels aren't allowed to love. So how would you know that's what you're feeling?'

'I–' Sherlock choked. 'I don't know.'

'Then you don't know if you love me.' John sighed and looked away. 'And what do you know about me anyway? I don't know anything about you.'

'You're right. I know only one thing. You're better off without me.' Sherlock disappeared in a flash of light.

'God dammit!' John cried, turning to punch something off a shelf. 'Mycroft!'

'He's gone back to your home. He knows of little other places to go,' Mycroft said, turning up in a flash of light.

John jumped and spun around. Mycroft was standing behind him.

'He's at my house?' he asked softly. 'But I told him we were breaking things off. Sexually at least. Why would he return to my home? I thought he'd want nothing to do with me?'

'He's also extremely weak. He wouldn't have been able to go far.'

'Oh. Well, could you take me to him? I don't want to waste any time getting home. He could be gone by then.'

'Yes, alright. Take my hand. We'll take a shortcut.'

John reluctantly took Mycroft's hand, grasping it tight. Mycroft and John disappeared in a flash of light, ending up in John's room. Sherlock was fast asleep on his bed. John held his head as they reappeared, his vision blurry and completely dizzy. That was worse than the flying. He blinked a few times to right his vision and saw Sherlock curled up in a ball on his bed, his wings wrapped protectively around himself.

'Do I let him sleep or wake him?' John asked softly.

'It's up to you. Just... look after him.' And with that Mycroft was gone.

John sighed and moved over to his bed. He lied down in front of Sherlock, facing him, and gently clasped one of his hands. As much as he had said to Mycroft, he didn't want what he had with Sherlock to end either. He enjoyed it far too much to just end it like it meant nothing.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, tucking a stray curl away from Sherlock's forehead. 'I'm so sorry. Don't listen to your brother. Or what I said earlier. I don't want this to end either. Though we need to be more secretive about it. No more sex in dreams. We'll just have to actually do it. But when we're both ready. Just sleep, OK? Get your strength back. We'll talk in the morning.'

John pressed a warm kiss to Sherlock's forehead and pressed himself closer, pulling Sherlock toward him and cuddling close. He slept dreamlessly, barely actually sleeping, and felt Sherlock begin to relax against him as the hours passed.

'I'm so fucked up,' Sherlock whispered in his sleep. 'Look at me. Suicidal bastard. Need you to hug me better.'

'Shhh,' John whispered, hugging Sherlock close. 'Shhh. It's OK. I'm here. We're gonna be OK. We're gonna make each other better.'

'I somehow doubt that.'

'Well, I can hope for the best,' John said softly. 'Just let me be positive, OK?'

'OK. Sorry. For everything. I've failed you. I always fail you.'

'You haven't failed me, Sherlock,' John whispered softly. 'I'm still here, aren't I? And you did a great job dealing with my bullies. I could have kissed you.'

Sherlock snuggled closer to John. 'I wouldn't have minded. You can kiss me now if you like.'

'Mmm. I think I will.' John tilted Sherlock's chin up and gently melded their lips together, humming softly. Sherlock moaned and weakly pushed himself up so he could lie on top of John whilst kissing him passionately.

'Forget what I said,' John moaned softly, tangling his fingers in Sherlock's hair. 'I don't want this to end.'

'But my feelings... they... complicate things,' Sherlock gasped out.

'We'll determine what you're actually feeling later. Just kiss me.'

'Can we go further than a kiss?'

'In the morning when everyone's gone. I'm skipping school to look after you.'

'Your classes... They're important. I'm not important.'

'Sherlock, you're the most important person I've met in my entire life. I'll survive one day of missing classes. Besides, it's all review anyway. I know all this shit. And you need me.'

'I do need you. Any ideas about how to stop me from killing myself? Cuz I was damn close today.'

'For humans, yes. Angels, no.' John kissed Sherlock again, tenderly that time. 'For now let's focus on us. Let's strengthen our bond, do that ritual later, and we can talk. Just talk. Hang out and get to know one another. I think that's as good a start as any.'

Sherlock beamed happily and kissed John. 'Gorgeous.'

'So are you,' John grinned. 'Go back to sleep. I'll join you in a moment. Just need to pop off to the loo.'

'Don't you dare bloody cut yourself.'

'Just need to pee. Promise.' He kissed Sherlock again and slid off the bed. 'Be right back.' He went into the bathroom and did indeed just use the loo. He washed his hands before returning and cuddled up to Sherlock again, linking their fingers together.

'See? Back already. Now go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake.'

'I... um–' Sherlock went to say something but bit his tongue to stop himself. 'Night.'

'G'night, Sherlock,' John yawned as he fell into a dreamless sleep, curled up in the arms of his angel.

* * *

I hope this makes up for that horrible ending last chapter. Next chapter has smut and fluff :)

I might update this weekend, but if I don't then I'll see you all again Tuesday.

TSA + IB


	13. Together

Hello everyone. I am uploading this during my three-hour Shakespeare class because it's boring and it's just mindless lecture. I usually just write fanfiction in my notes instead of taking notes anyway. I'm probably going to leave early because I haven't eaten a proper meal yet today and I can physically feel my blood sugar dropping. This is something quickly drinking a bottle of water to feign fullness cannot fix.

This is entirely a Sherlock and John chapter, and you know who's who.

_Warnings for this chapter: talk of self harm, talk of low self worth, talk of smut, blow jobs, nipple stimulation, masturbation, explosive orgasms._

* * *

Sherlock slept well that night, truly exhausted. He woke before John and uncurled himself from his arms, kissing his forehead lightly. He crawled from the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping John. He padded to the window in John's room and opened it, clambering onto the ledge. His feathers ruffled as the breeze passed through them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling utterly at peace.

John began shivering slightly and wrapped his blankets around himself, curling up in a ball. Why was it so cold all of a sudden? He blinked open sleepy eyes and noticed that Sherlock was gone. And it was absolutely freezing in his room.

'Sherlock?' he mumbled, still not really awake.

'Shhh. It's alright. I'm still here.'

'Why's it so cold?' He looked to the window and saw Sherlock sitting in it. 'Sherlock, it's January. In England. It's freezing cold. Why are you sitting in the window?'

'I'm thinking.' Sherlock stood to his feet and closed the window. He personally couldn't feel the cold. His body acted as a furnace. He crawled back onto the bed and wrapped John in his arms. 'I usually think whilst flying. I didn't deem flying wise with the amount of blood I lost.'

'Smart thinking,' John murmured as he huddled into Sherlock's body. He hummed as he began to warm. 'What were you thinking about?'

'Oh, just... stuff. Needed to clear my mind.'

'Private stuff. I get it.' John yawned, warming up and waking slowly. 'What time is it anyway?'

'Early,' Sherlock hummed softly. 'Probably only five in the morning.'

'My alarm goes off in an hour. I need to leave a note for my mum, letting her know I'm staying home today to look after you. She'll understand.'

'And what does looking after me entail? Hmm? Is John Hamish Watson going to treat his angel right?'

'Yes,' John giggled softly. 'But first I just want you to eat something. Toast maybe. You lost a lot of blood and I can't remember the last time you ate. And I know you don't eat a lot. So a piece of toast, then I'll... need to go out for supplies.'

'Mmm. Understood and noted. Oh, Doctor Watson. Fuck me like a wanton whore.'

John flushed a deep red. 'I'm not a doctor yet, Sherlock. And I'm scared as fuck. What if I'm shit at this? I don't want to hurt you.'

'You won't hurt me,' Sherlock assured John. 'And just for this you can be my doctor and I can be your patient. What do you say, Doctor Watson?' He purred the last question.

'Mmm. While I like the sound of that, save the role playing for later. Today is about being gentle. We can be a bit more adventurous later.'

'I have handcuffs.' Sherlock grinned mischievously. 'I'll save those for a later date too.'

'Jesus.' John giggled again and flushed a deep red. 'Did I get the kinky angel?'

'I'm one kinky bastard, yes. I wonder how many kinks we can try out together?'

'And how many kinks do you have? Well, I guess what I _should_ be asking is what are your kinks?'

'Not sure yet. But I feel like I've got quite a few brewing within me.'

'Well, maybe we'll get a chance for me to discover some kinks as well,' John hummed, burrowing closer.

'You already have a nipple kink,' Sherlock giggled.

'I... I do?'

'From what I've witnessed, yes you do.'

'Hmmm. Well, alright. I should get up and take a shower anyway. There's no way I'll get back to sleep now.'

'May I join you?'

'If you want,' John said softly. 'Though I'd like you to.'

'Oh, I want. I want a lot.'

'OK.' John grinned at him. 'Come on. What are we waiting for?'

Sherlock sprang from the bed, threw his clothes onto the floor and ran naked into the bathroom. John laughed loudly and followed Sherlock into the bathroom, stripping along the way.

'My, my. My angel is eager,' he smiled. 'Go on. Get in and I'll get the water started.'

Sherlock hopped into the shower, practically vibrating with anticipation. John laughed again and turned the water on nice and warm, entering the shower behind Sherlock and hugging him from behind, his wings soft on his cheek. Sherlock grinned and turned around, instantly clamping his mouth around John's nipple.

'Fuck!' John gasped sharply, his knees almost buckling from the sensations travelling straight to his groin. Sherlock sucked on the nipple insistently and growled around it.

'Oh my god! Yes!' John whispered hoarsely, feeling himself hardening as Sherlock continued. 'Fuck! Don't stop!'

Sherlock nipped the nipple experimentally and grabbed John's cock.

'Fuck!' John cried quietly, grasping Sherlock's shoulders tight and hanging on for dear life. 'So good! Don't stop!'

'I've got a better idea.' Sherlock grinned, dropped to his knees, and swallowed John's member whole. John gasped sharply and thrust his hips into Sherlock's mouth, biting his hand to silence his cries. His parents were right next door and he didn't want to wake them by crying Sherlock's name during his climax. Sherlock sucked hard and fast, finding all of John's sensitive spots. John was losing his footing and was slipping down the side of the shower. He was too lost to the pleasure to care. He slid down until he was sat on the floor and Sherlock was on his knees between his legs. Sherlock hollowed out his cheeks and growled. He flicked one of John's nipples and John was cumming in no time.

John bit hard into his hand as he came, muffling his whimpers and cries. When he finished he removed his hand and panted harshly, looking down at Sherlock as he pulled off and licked his lips.

'Fuck,' was all John was able to say.

'Was I that good?' Sherlock laughed loudly.

'First blow job ever,' John panted. 'Course you were that good. I've got nothing to compare it to.'

'Oh.' Sherlock pursed his lips. 'So I could be terrible at it then.'

'Sherlock, if you were terrible at it then I wouldn't have cum,' John pointed out.

'I suppose so,' Sherlock exhaled.

John cleared his throat and stood on shaky legs. 'Come on. Let's get cleaned up and then eat something. Maybe we can catch my mum before she leaves and I can tell her I won't be going to school. She can call the headmaster and make up an excuse.'

'Won't she ask about this?' Sherlock pointed to the deep scar in his neck.

'No. She doesn't like to pry into other people's affairs. She'll ask you things like how you've been and whatnot, but never anything along the lines of how you got a scar. Well, unless it's still bleeding that is. Then her nurses training will kick in.'

'I'm thankful of that.' Sherlock swallowed down hard. 'I think that it would be best to forget yesterday ever happened.'

'Agreed,' John nodded. 'Let's count it as a stepping stone in our relationship and learn from it.'

'Though I cannot promise I won't go down that path again.'

'And I can't promise I'll stop cutting, smoking, and starving myself immediately,' John said softly. 'It'll take time, but we can get through this.'

'I will try my best to stop doing such idiotic things,' Sherlock choked out. 'It's just I felt like I haven't been performing to full capacity. I let you down. You cut your wrists. You nearly suffered an overdose. I called you a stuck up brat. I just–' Sherlock was breaking now. He rubbed at his eyes furiously, trying to stop the tears but failing. 'I can't do anything right! I can't even be your fucking angel. I-I–'

John silenced Sherlock with a gentle kiss, holding his face tenderly. When he pulled away he wiped Sherlock's tears off his cheeks with his thumbs.

'It's OK, Sherlock. We've only just begun. I never expected all the bad things in my life to be fixed instantly. And I didn't cut because of you. I cut because of the bullies. You maybe have made a few mistakes since arriving but learn from them, don't let them destroy you. Once you get a hang of things you'll be a brilliant angel. _My_ brilliant angel. Now let's clean up and go downstairs, OK?'

'Your brilliant angel.' Sherlock tugged John into a tight hug. 'Yes. I swear I'll try not to be such a fuck up. I'm gonna be the best damn angel that's ever lived.'

'Good. And I'll try not to be such a fuck up,' John agreed, wrapping his arms around Sherlock in a hug. 'Now seriously, let's clean up, get dressed, and go get some food. I'm starving.'

'OK, good looking. Let's get some food in us.'

'Pass me the shampoo, would you?'

Sherlock picked up the bottle of shampoo and sniffed it before passing it to John. 'Mmm. Strawberries.'

'My favourite fruit.' John squirted some shampoo into his palm before setting the bottle down. He started washing his hair and found he had too many bubbles. He looked to Sherlock, who was watching him curiously. 'Want me to put some in your hair? I've got too much.'

'You can wash my wings if you like,' Sherlock said, smiling softly.

'With shampoo like this? Wouldn't you want to use regular soap?'

'I wanna smell like strawberries!'

'OK,' John giggled. 'Turn around and I'll wash your wings.'

Sherlock spun around in one swift moment, his wings spreading out in excitement.

'Eep!' John ducked out of the way as Sherlock spun around, his wings nearly slapping him. 'Easy! Settle down, OK?'

Sherlock made a loud chirping sound. 'Sorry. I just need my wings touched. I just – fuck. I need your hands all over me.'

John grinned and put his shampoo covered hands on Sherlock's feathers, smoothing his fingers over them.

'Still so soft,' he murmured. 'I love your wings.'

'Oooh. A beautiful wing kink to add onto your list.'

'I still say I'm not a Winger, even if I _am_ fucking an angel,' John mumbled, smoothing his hands over the muscles of Sherlock's wings.

'In which case you're delusional.'

'I'll deny it in front of everyone who asks,' John stated, moving further down Sherlock's wings, smoothing out the ruffled feathers. 'Maybe I'll come to accept it one day.'

'You should. I mean, look at how erotic you're finding my wings right now.'

John looked down and saw he was indeed hard again. He shrugged and continued washing Sherlock's wings.

'I don't know why I like them so much. I mean, they're gorgeous and sleek and so shiny and I just want to touch them all the time because they're so soft and–' He paused. 'I just really like them, OK?'

'God yes!' Sherlock's wings shivered under John's hands, loving the attention. 'I love you touching them. Just you though. Always you. God this feels good.'

John hummed and ran his fingers through Sherlock's feathers, paying special attention to the long ones. They were his favourites. Though the smaller, downy ones were pretty soft too. He wondered if he might be able to stuff a pillow with the down of Sherlock's feathers. It would be another way to stay connected with his angel.

'Mmm. Dear lord. Keep up the good work.' Sherlock pushed back on John's hands. 'I'm so hard.'

'I could fuck you right– Fuck!' John removed his hands from Sherlock's wings and continued swearing, rubbing at his eyes. That only made it worse. 'Fuck! I need water! Got shampoo in my eyes. Fucking burns!'

'Idiot.' Sherlock gave a light chuckle, turning around and helping John rinse the suds from his eyes.

'I seem to do a lot of idiotic things around you,' John mumbled, rinsing the shampoo from his eyes and hair. 'It's like I'm trying to impress you but I end up looking idiotic instead.'

'It's OK. Compared to me everyone is an idiot.'

'Yeah. Genius angel,' John muttered. Once all the shampoo was rinsed from his hair and eyes he turned Sherlock around and began rinsing his wings of the strawberry stuff.

Sherlock hummed and spread his wings out wider. 'You have extremely talented hands.'

'Guess it's a good thing I'm gonna be a doctor, huh?' John smiled softly, smoothing out each feather as it was rinsed of the shampoo. John took a sniff and just about melted. Sherlock's wings smelt heavenly.

Sherlock purred, turned his head and wriggled his eyebrows. 'Hello, Doctor Watson.'

'Still not role playing.' John laughed softly, turning Sherlock's head so it was under the spray of water. 'I'm gonna wash your hair now. You're just gonna smell like strawberries all over.'

'My life dream is to become a strawberry.' Sherlock smirked. 'Cuz then you could pop me in your mouth and swallow me whole.'

John blushed. 'I actually like to cut my strawberries up and put them on toast. And I'd rather not do that to you.' He grabbed the shampoo and poured some onto his hand. He lathered it up and then set to work on washing Sherlock's hair.

'I should hope not! Save eating people for Hannibal, yeah?'

'Yes. Save the cannibalism for Mr Lecter,' John laughed. He began massaging Sherlock's scalp, the shampoo frothing up nicely.

'Mmm. John. You're wonderful at this,' Sherlock sighed in content.

'Thanks,' he said, scrubbing all over Sherlock's head. 'I'm glad you're enjoying it.'

'Can we make this a regular occurrence?'

'Me washing your hair? Sure.' John finished washing and began tilting Sherlock's head back to rinse it out, the smell of strawberries heavy in the air.

Sherlock smiled softly. 'That's good. I want your hands all over me every day.'

'And you'll have all of me later,' John purred.

'Mmm. Good to know,' Sherlock growled back playfully. John laughed softly and pressed a tender kiss between Sherlock's shoulder blades.

'Come on. Let's get dressed and get some food.'

'Have you got anything for me to wear? I can't exactly put the hospital gown back on.'

'Oh. Right. Um... I don't know. Though you may be able to wear some of my baggy pyjama clothes.'

Sherlock nodded his agreement. 'I need help shopping for new clothes soon. Wanna come?'

'Sure!' John grinned, shutting off the water. 'We can go today. Maybe visit the hospital first and get your old clothes so you aren't out in my ill-fitting pyjamas.'

'Mmm true. I would look rather odd.'

'The trousers would be way too short,' John giggled, grabbing a towel and rubbing it over Sherlock's hair. 'You'd look ridiculous.'

'It's not my fault you're a midget.'

'No. It's my mum's side of the DNA.' John pouted, drying his own hair off now. 'Everyone on her side of the family is five foot seven or less. I'm just lucky I made it to the maximum height and not the minimum.'

'It's OK.' Sherlock winked. 'It means you're easier to swallow.' John flushed and felt his cock twitch. He stepped out of the shower and dried the rest of himself off, being mindful of his very erect cock.

'I may need your mouth again before we go downstairs. I'd hate to have to explain to my mum why I'm erect at the table, eating breakfast with my angel.'

'Nope. I'm afraid my mouth is unavailable at this moment in time,' Sherlock smirked.

'Well then you get to watch me take care of this myself,' John smirked right back. 'Here. Dry yourself off and I'll meet you on my bed.' He tossed the towel at Sherlock and strode out of the room, sitting spread eagle on his bed, his cock sticking up like a proper soldier between his legs.

Sherlock dried himself off before moving to watch John, grinning like mad. John smirked and teasingly slid his fingers up his thigh before grasping himself at the base. He hummed and leaned back against the wall, propping his feet on the bed. He licked his palm and then began to stroke himself slowly, twisting slightly around the head before moving back down. Sherlock smirked and filtered lust into the air, turning John into a writhing mess.

'Oh my god,' John groaned, moving his hand faster, panting hard, staring at Sherlock with lustful eyes. 'Fuck. Oh my god. Oh Sherlock. Feels so good. Fuck! Gonna–' He cried out and began cumming, his semen splattering his stomach. He collapsed against his mattress when he finished, staring up at the ceiling, panting hard.

'Yes!' Sherlock cried out. He'd started wanking too and he'd spilled out absolutely everywhere.

'Jesus,' John panted, sitting up slightly. 'Damn. It looks like you exploded.'

'God. I feel like I have.'

'You're gonna need to clean up. Hold on.' John moved back into the bathroom and wet down a flannel. He stumbled out and cleaned himself off before passing it to Sherlock.

'I'm gonna get dressed and try to find something for you to wear. Clean yourself up a bit and anywhere else your cum landed, OK?'

Sherlock dabbed at his cum. It'd landed on himself, the floor, and the bathroom doorway. John pulled on a clean pair of pants, jeans, and a t-shirt. He pulled his favourite cream jumper on over the shirt and then a pair of wool socks. When he was all dressed he turned to Sherlock and saw he was cleaning the bathroom door.

'Jesus. I think you _did_ explode,' he joked lightly. 'Here. I got you this for the time being.' He held out a pair of pyjama bottoms and a loose t-shirt that was too big for him so it should fit Sherlock fairly well.

Sherlock smiled and took the clothes. 'Ah. Have you any scissors? My wings, you see. I need to make some holes.'

'Yes. On my desk. The pencil case. I keep a pair in there.'

Sherlock flinched. 'Tell me you don't,' he whispered, bottom lip trembling.

'What? No!' John exclaimed. 'Never with scissors. Just the blades. Which I plan on throwing out today.' He moved over to Sherlock and clasped their hands together. 'I promise you that I have never cut myself with scissors and I never will.'

Sherlock smiled weakly and planted a heavy kiss on John's lips. John hummed softly before pulling away.

'Get dressed,' he ordered softly. 'I need food. And so do you.'

Sherlock pulled a face. 'I'll only throw it back up.'

'I won't make you eat a lot. Just a piece of toast. One piece of toast. Please?' John stuck his bottom lip out and gave Sherlock puppy dog eyes.

'Errhh! Fine! One piece of toast.'

John smiled and pecked Sherlock's lips softly. 'Come on. Get dressed. I'll make breakfast.'

Sherlock hurriedly got dressed. He cut two holes in the shirt and buttoned it up, pushing his wings through. It was a little tight on him and the matching trousers were far too short. He looked ridiculous.

'Look at you,' John giggled. 'You look utterly ridiculous.'

Sherlock whined and pouted. 'I could, of course, walk around naked. Angels are allowed to, you know.'

'Yes, but I don't want my angel flaunting himself about. That's for my eyes only,' John stated.

'And I know your eyes like what they see.' Sherlock grinned wickedly at John.

'Oh yes. Very much so. Now get that tight arse of your downstairs.' John gave him a pinch and gently pushed him toward the door.

* * *

Next chapter is more smut, and maybe I'll post it Thursday. Spring Break is coming up for me, which means I'm halfway done with the semester.

Until then,

TSA + IB


	14. John's Real First Time

Hello everyone. Apologies for the late update. I took a nap and then had to study for a midterm. I'm taking a break now while watching _Thor: The Dark World._ I love Loki's snark. XD

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock  
Me: John, John's Mum

_Warnings for this chapter: smut, loss of virginity, anal sex, some angst._

* * *

Sherlock groaned. 'I'm gonna make breakfast hell for you.'

'Just don't do it in front of my mum. Now go.' Sherlock wiggled his bum and sashayed down the stairs.

'Oh, you naughty angel.' John smirked and shook his head. He followed Sherlock downstairs and into the kitchen. Mrs Watson was already there.

'Oh. Hello dears,' she said, smiling softly. 'I thought you were in hospital?'

'He was, but they allowed him out early,' John lied. 'I wanted to stay home and take care of him today instead of going to school. He's still quite poorly.'

'Oh. Of course dear.' She looked at Sherlock's clothes. 'Do you want me to pick something up for you while I'm out?'

'Would you?' Sherlock asked with big, hopeful eyes.

'Of course, dear,' she said, smiling politely. 'Do you know your sizes? Shirt, trouser, and shoes?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'I'm afraid I'm still getting used to my vessel, Mrs Watson. I'm OK for shoes. However, I would appreciate it if you just make an observational guess for my trouser and shirt size. I would quite like a scarf too, if that isn't too much trouble.' His fingers almost subconsciously ran over the red raw scar on his neck. 'My brother will send a cheque over as soon as possible to replenish you for the money you spend.'

'Oh, he doesn't need to do that,' she tutted. 'It's fine. On me. I'll find you something nice, though you don't strike me as the blue jean wearing type.'

'No, but I'm always willing to try out new things.' He turned around to John, gave him a wink, and turned back to Mrs Watson.

'OK then. Jonathan, I'll call the school and inform them you'll be staying home today. _Just_ today, mind you. You go back tomorrow.'

'Understood,' John said, nodding. 'I'm just gonna have breakfast. You going out?'

'Yep. Just going to finish my tea and then I'll be on my way.' She took three sips of her tea and stood, her scrubs bright pink today. She kissed John on the cheek and ruffled his hair. 'See you at dinner. Love you.'

John snickered and fixed his hair. His mum knew how much he hated it when she messed up his hair. 'Love you too. Bye, Mum.' She waved to the two boys and closed the door behind her.

'Is it just... is it just us now?'

'Harry's probably out and my father's still asleep. So, yes. It's just us.'

'Food then sex?' Sherlock asked John with a big grin.

'Absolutely.' John grinned. 'Toast?'

'Yes, thanks. Can I have honey on it please?'

'Honey on toast?' John shrugged and moved to the toaster, popping in two slices of bread. 'OK. Sure. I'm not one to judge.'

'It's nice. Trust me. It's about the only thing I will eat.'

'Hmmm. I'll have to try some myself then.' John grinned. 'How toasted do you like it? Barely, medium, or burnt to a crisp?'

'Erm... medium,' Sherlock said after a while.

'Right.' John adjusted the temperature on the toaster and turned to Sherlock. 'You OK? You kinda spaced out there for a moment.'

'Hmm. Yes. I was talking to my brother.'

'Oh.' John's face fell. 'Does he know about... you know? What we're gonna do? Because I told him I'd put a stop to it.'

'No. Actually he was telling me something of great interest.' Sherlock ran a hand through his curly locks, mussing them up.

'Secret angel stuff?' John popped the toast before it burnt and got out two plates, a knife, and the honey pot.

'You could say that, yeah.'

'Then I won't ask.' He held a plate up to Sherlock, a piece of toast smothered with honey upon it. 'Here. Eat.'

Sherlock hummed and took the plate, taking a large bite out of the honey covered toast.

'He's with a human being.'

John nearly choked on his bite of toast, which was surprisingly good with honey, coughing harshly.

'He's _what?!_' he finally managed to ask.

'He's with a human. In a relationship.' Sherlock frowned. 'Biggest name in the world of angels and he's breaking all the rules.'

John clamped a hand over his mouth. He wasn't sure if it was in shock or to rein in his laughter. In the end he started laughing anyway.

'Wait, wait,' he said between laughs. 'So Mycroft, the angel who told me to stop having dream sex with you... is fucking a human _himself? _Ha! That's rich! That's just fucking great!'

'He is only trying to protect me,' Sherlock stated softly. 'He can put himself at risk, but not me.'

'Oh? So because he's such a bigwig in the angel world he can break the rules without consequence?' John scowled. 'That's completely unfair.'

'Mmm. It is. Let's fuck and feel better.'

John grinned wolfishly. 'Let's.' He abandoned the toast on the counter and dragged Sherlock upstairs to his room, locking the door behind them. He pushed his desk in front of the door for good measure and locked his window, closing the blinds.

'Just taking precautions,' he said. 'Don't want to get caught.'

Sherlock rushed forward, flinging John onto the bed and pouncing on top of him. 'You have no idea what you're in for.'

'First off, there is no way you are fucking me with that third leg cock of yours,' John grumbled, trying to flip their positions. 'You can do that in the dream because I always imagine your cock smaller so it'll fit. Second–' He grasped his ratty shirt and ripped it off, buttons flying. '–you have too many clothes on.'

Sherlock growled and flipped their positions. 'First of all, I am the one in charge in this relationship. Second of all, I believe you'll like my large cock inside of you.'

'Who said you were in charge?' John scowled. 'I'm the one who's about to fully lose his virginity. You lost yours in my dream. This is my time, so just – erg!' He ripped Sherlock's trousers off and kissed him hard. 'My hormones are fucking raging. I need to fuck you now!'

'Correction. _I'm_ going to fuck you,' Sherlock purred, ripping John's clothes off. 'And you're going to let me.'

'I thought I was gonna fuck you?' John pouted, watching as Sherlock stuck three fingers in his mouth and lathered them with saliva.

'You'll enjoy this a lot more, believe me.'

John sighed and rolled over, Sherlock clambered on top of him almost immediately.

'Do I make your heart race? Do I cause you to feel like a nervous wreck whenever I'm around? Do you feel so loved you feel almost nauseous because of it?' Sherlock kissed John's neck tenderly.

John shivered and moaned, arching into Sherlock's kisses. 'Yes,' he whispered. 'Oh god yes.'

'Do you want your angel to make love to you? Or is it a fuck you'll be wanting?'

'Make love to me, Sherlock,' John whispered, pulling Sherlock close for a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms around his angel's neck and moaned into the kiss, rubbing his still clothed erection against Sherlock's thigh.

'No matter what happens, remember this moment, John,' Sherlock whispered. He tugged his human's trousers off in one swift motion and kissed him again. 'Ready?' he asked gently.

'As I'll ever be,' John whispered, swallowing loudly.

'It's OK. I'm here. I'm going to take good care of you,' Sherlock reassured John as he began to swirl his fingers around John's entrance. John whimpered and scrunched his eyes shut, not entirely sure he liked the touch in such a weird place.

'I'm going to need you to relax. I might hurt you if you're so tense.'

'I'm trying,' John grit out. 'But it's so different from the dream. It's weird.'

'I will be far more gentle than the dream,' Sherlock said softly as he eased a finger inside. John made an unintelligible noise at the intrusion, clamping down around it to make it stop. He gripped the sheets tight and whimpered.

'It feels so weird,' he grit out. 'I... I'm scared, Sherlock. What if it hurts? What if I don't like it?'

'Then I'll stop,' Sherlock promised.

'I'm still scared,' John swallowed, looking up into his angel's eyes. 'Help me not be scared.'

'John.' Sherlock frowned. 'If I took away your fear I'd be taking away your free will. I may as well be raping you.'

'Then... help me calm down. Please. I... I can't calm down.'

'Alright. Focus on this.' Sherlock leant down and kissed John passionately. John hummed softly and focused on the kiss, beginning to relax. He even went so far as to push back on Sherlock's finger, letting him know it was OK to continue.

'I've got you. You're OK,' Sherlock smiled against John's lips, pumping his finger in and out. John moaned and shuddered, pushing back on Sherlock's finger.

'More. Please.'

'OK.' Sherlock added another finger. 'Is this OK?'

'Umf! Slow! Slow!' John grabbed Sherlock's wrist and slowed down his movements. 'Just go slow.'

'OK, love. I'll go nice and slow.'

'Mmm. Call me that again,' John hummed.

Sherlock curled his fingers and pushed in deeper. 'My beautiful love. Dear. Darling. Sweetie pie. My chariot.'

'Oh fuck!' John cried, his back arching against the mattress. 'Fuck! I'd read prostate stimulation was good, but I'd never expected it to be this brilliant. More! Don't stop!'

Sherlock stretched John and added a third finger. 'How's this, my love?'

'Tight,' he groaned. 'But I can handle it. Don't stop.'

'Mmm. Want my beautiful cock yet?' Sherlock purred loudly, stretching John a little wider.

'Yes! Yes!' John cried, his knees parting wider. 'Bloody take me!'

'As you wish.' Sherlock laughed, replacing his fingers with his massively engorged prick. 'It's gonna take me a while to push myself the whole way in. Sorry. I'm just too damn big.'

John gasped and moaned loudly, his hands moving to grip Sherlock's hips tight. 'Just get in me! I need you!'

'I'm trying!' Sherlock groaned out as he shoved himself the rest of the way in. 'There we are. You're all mine now.'

John groaned and stilled completely. He felt incredibly full, a very strange feeling but not entirely a bad one. He tried to move but it caused sparks of pleasure/pain to shoot through him. He clutched onto Sherlock tight, his fingers digging into his skin.

'Go... Go slow,' he choked out. Sherlock nodded, looking down at him sympathetically. He began to move slowly but surely, kissing John all the while. John grunted and groaned, still clutching Sherlock tight, bruises forming slowly. He slowly began to relax and Sherlock was able to move more, a little faster, a little harder. Now John was grunting and groaning for an entirely different reason, his cock hard against his belly.

'Not gonna last,' he gasped out, his cock bouncing as Sherlock moved. 'Touch me. Please.'

Sherlock grasped John's cock and moved his hand up and down in time with his thrusts. John gasped and flopped back against his mattress, rocking against Sherlock in time with his thrusts, sliding his cock through his fist. He was shaking and whimpering in no time, Sherlock's name on his lips as he came with a groan, splattering his stomach with his cum. Sherlock whimpered loudly, burying his face in John's neck.

'John,' he whispered as he came long and hard within him. John's body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure, his hands tangled in Sherlock's hair. He blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling, panting hard.

'Holy shit.'

'Language,' Sherlock laughed. 'You're in the presence of an angel.'

'You're an atheist. I can swear around you,' John giggled.

'Shhh. Don't say that.' Sherlock looked around nervously. 'God might hear you.'

John laughed again and kissed Sherlock softly.

'God,' Sherlock breathed. 'I've fallen for you, John.'

'You sure?' John whispered. 'I don't even know what love feels like.'

'I think it feels like what we've got together.' Sherlock smiled and kissed John's neck.

'Mmm. I do like what we have,' John hummed, tilting his head back so Sherlock could reach more of his neck.

'It's possible to love someone without knowing everything about them, John.'

'Yes, I know. I just... how do you know that it's love? What if it's just infatuation?'

'Because I just know, John. It's a gut feeling. I love you. You're beautiful.' Sherlock cupped John's face gently. 'Believe me. Please?'

'I believe you. I do. I just don't think what I feel for you is love. I have no idea what I'm feeling. But... it's a nice feeling at the very least.'

'It's... It's OK.' Sherlock smiled weakly. 'I really don't expect anyone to fall in love with me.'

'Perhaps one day,' John murmured, turning to capture Sherlock's lips in a tender kiss. 'I could come to love you. I mean, I already love you because you're my angel, but maybe it could develop into being _in_ love with you. There is a difference.'

'Don't be ridiculous. What would come of loving me? It would only cause pain.'

'You don't want me to love you?' John asked, raising an eyebrow. 'Sherlock, everyone deserves to be loved.' He lowered his voice slightly. 'Even atheist angels.'

'I... I need to think.' Sherlock disappeared in a blast of white light.

John was left alone in his room, naked, and feeling very empty. He sighed and pulled on a pair of pyjama trousers and a t-shirt. He moved his desk back to its original place and went downstairs, throwing away the toast and making himself a cup of tea.

_Why is Sherlock always disappearing? I don't like it. It makes me feel... inadequate. Like I'm not good enough company or something so Sherlock has to leave to find someone more intelligent to talk to. Oh. That's it, isn't it? Sherlock goes to his brother to discuss what to do with me. Am I that bad of a human? Or am I too complicated for Sherlock to handle? He did say I was something of a mystery when we first met, that he wanted to understand me better. Ugh! Where the hell did he go? Fuck. I miss him already._

**...::-::...**

Sherlock settled on a park bench, cupping his hands underneath his chin. It was quiet here. Quiet was good. It meant he could think. He had an awful lot to think about.

_I, Sherlock Holmes, have fallen in love. With a human no less. I know it's love. It has to be! Every time I see him he makes my heart beat a little faster. He makes me question myself. No one else has been able to do that, ever. I love John's laugh. It's a pleasant sound. It's bubbly and full of life and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Mmm. Those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to sparkle. _

Oh dear lord. He'd fallen and he'd fallen hard. He'd slept with John. Both in his dreams and more recently in real life. What the hell did he do?

* * *

Just a heads up, next chapter is when the rape and Mpreg come into play. I'll put a warning into the fic when the rape scene starts for those of you who don't want to read about it. I'll also let you know when it's over. But yes. Rape and Mpreg next chapter just so everyone's aware.

Until next time,

TSA + IB


	15. Everything Turns to Shit

Hello everyone. It is the day before Saint Patrick's Day here in America. I am posting this today as I plan on going out drinking tomorrow after I get out of my classes and I _might_ be hungover Tuesday morning. So here's the next chapter ahead of time. If my head isn't killing me on Tuesday I'll post the next chapter later that afternoon. Or Wednesday sometime.

For those who don't know, InvisibleBlade and I haven't been able to contact each other much over the past two weeks as the wifi in her area has been cut for some strange reason or other. She and I have been chatting via Facebook through one of her friend's accounts, but we haven't been able to RP very often. She was able to email me a couple of days ago, but we only got a few messages in before the available 3G on her phone was spent. I have unlimited 3G/4G on my phone and I always find it weird when people have limited Internet access that they pay for. How do you live on limited Internet?

And for those of you who are wondering about when the sequel to FT&PD will be posted... I don't know. IB and I haven't been able to discuss it and we haven't even picked out a title for it yet either. We're thinking of sticking to the Peter Pan theme, but we haven't been able to agree on anything yet. If you want to know when I post the new story I suggest following me as an author versus the story as that won't be updated. So as soon as it's posted you'll get a nice little email alert and your day will be made awesome ;)

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock, Mycroft  
Me: John

**_Trigger Warnings for this chapter: cutting, rape (it is labeled accordingly for those who don't want to read the rape scene)_**

_Warnings for this chapter: smut, anal sex, having sex when they probably shouldn't be, allergic reaction and administration of "epinephrine", mpreg._

* * *

When Sherlock didn't return for almost an hour John decided he should at least get dressed and go out. Sherlock needed clothes, and his mum would probably only buy him one shirt and a pair of trousers. If she remembered at all that is. She worked hard and sometimes forgot, so John decided he would go out and get Sherlock some clothes and maybe pick up some lube. God. He was actually gonna buy lube. He shook that thought away and got dressed, going back downstairs to just eat a piece of bread, and headed out, his wallet and mobile in his coat pocket.

**...::-::...**

Sherlock returned to John's house to find him already gone. With a heavy, boredom filled sigh, he tried to ignore the pulling sensation at the sight of the blades. It had felt incredible last time. The slicing sensation of the blade on his skin. All that pain. Being able to feel something. He edged forward and grabbed the box of blades.

_I should definitely stop. After what happened last time of course I should. But I'm not going to, am I? _

Sherlock was more careful this time. He slunk to the back of the house and crouched in the shadows. He cut the bond and raised the blade to his wrist. Boredom and being alone was a very dangerous thing for an angel like Sherlock.

**...::-::...**

John poked around Tesco's, grabbing some button up shirts, trousers, and some casual t-shirts. He hummed in thought. This would be a lot easier if Sherlock was with him. He asked the shop attendant to hold onto his items for him. The man nodded and wrapped them all up with John's name on the package. John returned home, trying to somehow signal Sherlock to come find him, but nothing happened. Oh no. Had he blocked the bond again? He ran home and barged inside, taking the stairs two at a time until he was at his bedroom door. He entered but his room was dark, he flicked on the light and gasped when he found Sherlock in the corner, a blade between his fingers and fresh cuts on his arm.

'Sherlock!' he cried, rushing over to him. 'Stop! What do you think you're doing?!' He took the blade and tossed it across the room, hugging Sherlock tight. 'Don't do that. Please. No more. I'm getting rid of them today. No more cutting. Please.'

'I was bored,' Sherlock whispered in a small voice. 'I didn't know where you were. And– what the fuck is wrong with me?! Fuck. John. I need help! I need you!'

'I'm here now,' John said softly, pulling Sherlock onto his lap. 'I was out shopping, looking at clothes for you. But something didn't feel right so I came back.'

'I made a promise to stop. Why did I do it again? I don't understand.'

'The feeling of cutting is addictive, Sherlock. It allows you to feel something or nothing at all. You say you did it because you were bored. I think you did it because you couldn't stop thinking and the cutting helped quiet your thoughts.'

Sherlock gazed up at John's eyes and kissed his jaw. 'I was thinking about us and how this can't possibly last. How you make my heart beat erratically. And just how much I think I really do love you.'

'I don't expect this to last either, but we can enjoy it while it does.' John hummed softly. 'Try not to be so pessimistic, be a little more optimistic, and live in the moment. OK?'

'I can't think positively. I'm a negative kind of angel. I just – don't want to lose you.'

'Sherlock, unless someone kills me, I'm not going anywhere. I'm always going to be here and you'll always have me. You're my angel, and I'm your human. And we just happen to be sort of lovers. Now shut up and kiss me.'

Sherlock kissed John softly and languidly. His lips then moved to John's throat and he bit down hard.

'Mine,' he growled. 'All mine.'

'Yes,' John moaned, shivering in pleasure. 'All yours.'

Something strange began to happen to Sherlock, though he was completely oblivious to it. His skin was starting to glow, his eyes turning completely black, a thin sheen of sweat glimmered over his skin.

'Mine!' he growled and sunk his teeth in deeper, his huge wings spreading out impressively. 'Mine! Mine! All mine! Mine forever! No one else's!' He nipped and bit and sniffed John everywhere, his body glowing brighter all the while. He grabbed John by the wrists and dragged him upwards and up onto the bed, pinning him there.

**WARNING. RAPE SCENE AHEAD. SKIP TO THE NEXT BOLD LINE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ A RAPE SCENE. IT'S A SHORT GAP.**

'Mine forever! Yes! I'll make sure of that!'

'Sherlock?!' John cried, struggling in his grip. 'Sherlock! Sherlock, stop! I don't like this! What are you doing?! STOP!'

'No! Not till you're mine forever!' Sherlock pulled his trousers down and tugged John's down too. He pinned John down more firmly and shoved his prick into him. He thrust hard and deep, his body glowing brighter and brighter. 'Ah! Yes! Fuck! Mine!'

John sobbed loudly, his hands pushing Sherlock away as best he could. Sherlock was raping him, it hurt so bad, he wanted it to stop. His hands scrabbled around for something to grab, found the lamp, and thwacked it over Sherlock's head, the bulb shattering.

'Big mistake!' Sherlock snapped, grabbing John's wrists and thrusting even harder. He was so close now. 'Ah! God yes! You're almost mine forever!' He screamed as he came, snapping his hips forward harshly. The light from Sherlock's body began to filter into John and Sherlock collapsed on top of him, still inside of him. John didn't cum, he hadn't even gotten erect. He sobbed loudly as Sherlock finally came down from whatever had possessed him, tossing the lamp onto the floor with a loud crash.

'Get out of me,' he choked out weakly. 'Now. Get out. Go away, I don't want you here! Get away from me!' Now he was screaming, pushing and shoving until Sherlock fell onto the floor with a thud. 'I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!'

'John?' Sherlock questioned, his brow knitting together, seeing John for the first time.

'Get away from me!' John screeched. 'Fucking psycho! What the fuck was that?! You fucking raped me! And what the fuck kind of light did I absorb?! What was that?!'

'I what?!' Sherlock scrambled to his feet. 'Oh god. This isn't good at all. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I– Google angel– angel mating rituals. Oh fuck! Bollocks!' He closed his eyes and disappeared in his usual fashion.

'Fuck you!' John cried to thin air, turning to sob into his pillow. Fuck the Googling. He wasn't going to do anything Sherlock asked. Not anymore.

**RAPE SCENE END. YOU MAY CONTINUE READING AT YOUR LEISURE.**

'I warned you. You should have stopped things before they got so far.'

'Go away!' he screeched at Mycoft, pulling his pillow over his head to drown him out. He was still trembling, still so very afraid and angry, and he was pretty sure his arse was bleeding too. 'I should have listened but I couldn't– I couldn't hurt him like that. He's too vulnerable and– I hate him. What did he do to me?'

Mycroft knelt down by the young human and looked on at him softly. 'He claimed you as his.'

John whimpered pitifully and turned to look at the angel. 'What does that even mean? I am his? I'm not his property! He doesn't _own_ me!'

'He wouldn't have even been aware that he was doing it. It's an instinct. It usually occurs with other angels. It's common with our family. It's a way of carrying on our strong bloodline. My brother has fallen for you. He loves you dearly. His instincts have taken over and you are and always will be his. Was he glowing yellow or red? It's important. If he was glowing red then he wasn't just claiming you. He was... mating you.'

'I... I don't know.' John swallowed. 'I wasn't paying much attention. And I couldn't really see as I was crying too damn hard!'

'You'll need to go to hospital in about a week,' Mycroft said gently. 'To check. And... Sherlock should come with you. John, he really had no control over what he was doing. He cares for you a lot.'

'Check? Check for what? Are... Are you saying Sherlock can impregnate me?! Am I pregnant?!'

'Don't panic. It's only a minor possibility. But it's one we must consider. It can easily be dealt with if it is the case.'

'Don't panic? Don't panic?! I could be pregnant with an angel baby! I'm a guy! How the fuck is that even possible?!'

'You saw the light. It went into you, yes? If it was yellow it was merely him marking you with his scent. If it was red then it creates a womb and a baby. It is in our biology. Did you not do your research?'

'I didn't see the fucking light!' John screamed. 'I was sobbing and I had my eyes closed! And I've done _some_ research about you guys, but I have yet to get to the rituals you guys have.'

'I'll make a hospital appointment for you. John, do forgive Sherlock. In our culture it's a sign of adoration. He's probably just as scared as you.'

'He ran away from me! He didn't even take responsibility for his actions!'

'He didn't remember what happened. All he knew was that he'd hurt you and you wanted him to leave. He's terrified and he thinks you hate him.'

'I hate him right now,' John huffed. 'If that bastard got me pregnant I swear to god–' He sighed loudly. 'I don't know what I'll do. I might keep it. The baby. I mean, it's mine and his. I don't know. Just find him, would you?'

'I'll try my very best. Please go easy on him when I bring him back.'

'Yeah. OK.' John turned over and wrapped himself up in his blankets, huddling into them against the shivers still wracking his body.

Mycroft found his brother in little to no time crying in a curled up ball.

'Oh, Sherlock. What have you gone and done?'

'I hurt John! I raped him!' Sherlock screamed at the top of his lungs.

'You mated him. There is a difference,' Mycroft said softly, kneeling down by his brother.

'M-mated him?' Sherlock stammered in disbelief.

'You definitely claimed him. Whether you procreated with him is another thing entirely. You need to go to him.'

'No!'

'Yes!' Mycroft grabbed Sherlock and transported him back to John's bedroom. Sherlock landed on the floor with a startled sob, trembling like a leaf.

'Sherlock?' John turned over and saw the trembling ball of angel on his floor. He rushed over to him and clambered onto his lap, hugging him tight.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' he apologised repeatedly.

'Why are you apologising? I raped you! I should be the one saying sorry!' Sherlock clutched John tightly, afraid to let go.

'I know, and you can later, but I just want you to know that I don't hate you. I don't. I... I care about you. A lot.'

Mycroft coughed awkwardly. 'I hate to break up the happy party but I have arranged a hospital appointment for John. Ten pm sharp on Monday.'

'And if I am... you know,' John swallowed. 'What happens to me if I decide to keep it?'

'You will have to go into hiding for twelve months. Angel pregnancies are longer than humans. There will be complications. There has never been a human-angel hybrid before. Then we would have to decide what to do with the child once he or she is surgically removed.' Mycroft sniffed the air pointedly. 'I would advise a termination.'

John swallowed and nodded. 'But if I did keep it, if I am, you know... Would I be a social outcast? Would people try to kill me?'

'First human male pregnancy?' Mycroft raised an eyebrow. 'Of course you'd be an outcast. But Sherlock won't allow anyone to come anywhere near you.' Sherlock growled in agreement and hugged John tighter.

'If I am... pregnant,' John choked out, swallowing thickly, 'would you want me to keep it?' He looked at Sherlock, hoping he wasn't trying to lead him on to any specific answer. He wasn't even sure what he would do himself.

'I'd respect your decision either way.' Sherlock took a deep breath. 'I won't judge you just because you got rid of the bloody thing.'

'But you'd be disappointed.' John's brow creased. 'Because you want me all for yourself and a baby would make me yours forever.'

'I – no. That would be selfish of me.' Sherlock kissed John's jaw lightly. 'I had no control before. I do now. You don't want to be mine, not forever. And that's OK.'

'Minds change,' John mumbled, tilting his head up so Sherlock could nip more of his jaw. 'But I don't really want to be a father at seventeen. So, if I am with child, I'll terminate the pregnancy. What will the doctor even say? Will he or she tell?'

'We'll get a private doctor. All very hush-hush. Right Mycroft?'  
Mycroft nodded. 'It is all arranged.'

'OK. Can we... Can we go out shopping and pretend we're normal and not so fucked up? I could use a walk.'

'Of course. We can do that.' Sherlock kissed John softly.  
'I shall leave you two to it then.' Mycroft left hurriedly.

'You still need clothes,' John hummed through the kiss. 'And I don't have a lot of money. Though I have a few selections reserved at the local Tesco's of you want to try those on. Though I feel like going to a mall might be better. More selections.'

'OK. We'll go to a mall. But can I get some food into you first? Please?' Sherlock hugged John even more protectively.

'I... Yeah. I should probably eat. Though it might not be much. I did just go through a traumatic experience.'

Sherlock looked away in shame. 'I'm... I'm so sorry. I didn't – I'd never – not willingly, you know?'

'Mycroft said it was instinct because you love me,' John said softly, holding Sherlock's head in his hands. 'That you couldn't help it, didn't know what you were doing. Just... if we do end up together forever and decide to have a kid, mate me when you have my consent, OK?'

'I don't choose when I go into heat, John,' Sherlock said sadly. 'Besides, why are you even considering a family with me?'

'Heat? Is that what that was?' John cocked an eyebrow. 'Is this one of those things I'm gonna have to deal with every month?'

'I'll have to get myself on meds. They'll make me super sleepy and loopy in the head but they'll stop the cycle,' Sherlock sighed, running a hand down his face.

'Like suppressants? Sherlock, if they're gonna dampen your powers I don't want you to take them. Can't you just go back to heaven and fuck an angel when you feel like you're going into heat?' He suddenly remembered the other part of Sherlock's question and blushed.

'I don't think I was asking to start a family with you– Oh, wait, I was. Just, forget what I said. I'm not thinking and I'm hungry.'

Sherlock shook his head and ran a hand through his locks. 'It's not as simple as that. There has to be a deep emotional bond for me to mate with someone. And... err... I really wouldn't complain about having a family with you.'

'We can talk about that later.' John blushed. 'But I really need food. I can feel my blood sugar dropping by the second.'

Sherlock shot to his feet and dashed downstairs, grabbing some crisps and making a cheese and onion sandwich before racing back to John and handing him the plate, watching him nervously. John accepted the food gratefully and bit into the sandwich, humming at the taste.

'So good,' he said through a mouthful of food. 'What's in this?'

'Cheese and onion,' Sherlock answered, gazing at him warily.

'Onion?!' John spat out what was in his mouth and his hands grabbed at his throat, feeling it tightening up already. 'Allergic to onions. Sherlock. Help!' He looked at Sherlock with panic in his eyes. He hadn't had an allergic episode in years, so his family had gotten rid of the epinephrine pens. Now he desperately needed one but couldn't speak, his allergic reaction acting quickly. He just hoped Sherlock would know what to do.

Sherlock reacted instantly, pinning John down and kissing him forcefully, a puff of golden light traveling from his lips and down John's throat, effectively working a cure for the allergic reaction. He pulled back and grasped John tightly, a protective hand settling on his stomach, taking deep breaths of the scent on John's skin.

'Are you OK? Please tell me you're OK. I'm so sorry! I really am! Oh god. Don't be angry. Did you sustain any damage?!' Sherlock was getting more and more anxious. Unusually so.

'I'm fine,' John gasped, staring up at the ceiling, panting hard. 'I'm fine. Thank you.'

'No you're not!' Sherlock panicked, picking John up and carrying him to bed. 'Oh god. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Gotta look after you. Gotta make sure you're OK. Be OK!'

'Sherlock, you're blowing this completely out of proportion,' John huffed, pushing him away. 'I'm _fine_. Look.' He stood up and spun around. 'See? No harm, no foul.'

'Lie down!' Sherlock yelled, body shaking, tears in his eyes. 'Please. Lie down. I– I'd feel better if you'd just lie down.' He whimpered and whined. 'P-p-please?'

'Sherlock, you are being way too overprotective. What's got your knickers in a twist?' He suddenly remembered feeling Sherlock's hand on his stomach and he paled. 'Did you sense something in there? Am I– Did you–?' He couldn't finish his thought.

'No, just – I don't know – please lay down.' Sherlock swallowed and patted the space beside him.

'Sherlock, please. You're worrying me.' John still didn't sit down, didn't even move toward the bed. 'I just need proper food. I'm going to the kitchen.' He pulled his pants and trousers back on and went downstairs, making himself a proper sandwich, being sure to avoid the onions. Sherlock raced after him, heart beating irregularly. He watched John warily, completely alert for any possible signs of danger.

'Oh my god, Sherlock, relax!' John sighed loudly, slathering his sandwich with mayonnaise. 'Is this a side effect of whatever the hell happened between us?'

'Possibly. I don't like it.' Sherlock whimpered. 'I feel really anxious about everything.'

'Do you have any methods to help you calm down?' John asked, layering lettuce, tomatoes, deli meat, and bacon on his sandwich. He put the top slice of bread on and pushed down, crunching everything together. 'I go for walks, for example. Or take a shower.'

'No. I– I'm gonna throw up.' Sherlock legged it upstairs to John's bathroom, barely making it in time.

John sighed and rolled his eyes. He took a big bite of his sandwich and hummed. He'd forgotten how good food was. He ate it quickly and then drank a glass of water. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and ate that as well, tossing the core in the bin before going back upstairs.

'Sherlock? You OK?' He knocked on the bathroom door, his brows creased in concern. 'You've been in there a while. Can I come in?'

Sherlock was far from OK. He'd thrown up violently and was currently sweating like a pig and shaking with tremor after tremor of anxiety.

'Sherlock?' John tried the door. It was unlocked. He entered slowly and he frowned when he saw Sherlock curled up in a ball on the floor. He sighed and knelt down by him, placing the back of his hand on Sherlock's forehead, checking his temperature.

'Sherlock, I'm not apologising for eating. I needed to eat. Would it make you feel better if I lied down and you curled possessively around me?'

Sherlock nodded and growled at John, his wings hovering over him defensively. 'John,' he wheezed. 'My John.'

'OK. Up.' John pulled Sherlock into a sitting position and then helped him stand. 'Now if you don't mind, I want to get comfortable. I will be changing into a sleep shirt and some pyjama trousers. Please do not hover over me while I change.'

He stalked off to his wardrobe and pulled out a fresh sleep shirt and trousers. He stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and got into his comfy ones. Once he'd tied the drawstring on his trousers he clambered into bed and waited for Sherlock to join him. Sherlock dove onto the bed, his body pushing against John's instantly, his wings and arms wrapping around him. He growled down John's ear and held him tightly but carefully, his hands moving along John's body and hovering over his stomach.

There was the bloody hand again. 'Sherlock... Please. If I'm... pregnant... tell me. I think I have a right to know.'

'I'm not a doctor, John,' Sherlock huffed, rubbing soothing circles on John's stomach. 'But why else would instinct be telling me to act like this?'

'Surely your angel powers can tell if I have another being inside me,' John huffed. 'Can you stop touching it? It's making me uncomfortable.'

'No. I can't. For both requests.' Sherlock's hands splayed out wider over the expanse of soft flesh.

'What am I gonna tell my mum when she sees you being all possessive like this?' John sighed loudly. 'Fuck my life.'

'That I am being your guardian angel,' Sherlock mumbled. 'Or that you're up the duff, but I doubt she'd believe you.'

John huffed but held his tongue. If he was indeed up the duff, knocked up, whatever, he had to get rid of it. There was no way he was keeping it if Sherlock would be super possessive and hovering over him every second of every day. Sherlock snarled, almost sensing what John was thinking. He nipped at John's neck possessively and held him tighter.

'Sherlock,' John huffed, pushing him away slightly. 'Stop. Please. I don't like this at all. If I've been impregnated by you then I'm getting rid of it. End of story. I am not going to be a father at seventeen. And definitely not the first male to birth an angel-human hybrid baby. I am not ready for that level of commitment, nor do I want to be competently shunned by society. Do you really want that for me simply so you can have something that ties me to you forever?'

Sherlock whimpered and shook his head. 'But – it's a life. It's precious. John, I– Fine. Kill the bloody thing.'

'It isn't even alive yet!' John protested. 'It's– so I am then? Is that what you're saying? You have impregnated me with an angel baby?'

Sherlock grunted and turned around. 'I believe so, yes.'

'Oh my god.' John began hyperventilating, his vision blurry. 'Oh my god. You got me pregnant. Oh my god. No. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. Oh my god this is happening! Oh my god!' John clutched his head in his hands and curled into the fetal position, rocking slightly. 'No. No. This isn't happening. I'm not pregnant with an angel rape baby. Oh god. I'm gonna be sick.'

'I didn't–' Sherlock's head snapped up and he sighed. 'It's fine. It can be removed. After all, as you've already pointed out, it isn't really alive yet. Just a bunch of meaningless cells. Please calm down.' He kissed John softly. 'Please?'

'How can I calm down?! I'm pregnant!' John cried.

'Something which is easily dealt with!' Sherlock bit back. 'Now relax.'

'This is your fault!' John growled. 'Oh my god. I'm hormonal already! Fuck me!' He grabbed Sherlock close and sealed their lips together, pulling him on top of him until he was nestled between his legs. He rocked up and moaned loudly, his cock already hard.

'Fuck me before I change my mind!' he growled, sucking Sherlock's fingers into his mouth and coating them liberally with his saliva. 'Fuck me! Please! God, fuck! I need you!'

'Gah!' Sherlock cried out. 'Are you... sure? I– oh! This feels bloody fantastic!'

'Oh my god, yes!' John cried, easing Sherlock's fingers inside. 'Oh fuck, baby! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!'

Sherlock didn't need to be told twice. He was quick to prepare John and even quicker to push his member inside. 'Are you mine, John? Forever and ever?

'Yes! Forever! Just fuck me! Please! Oh god! I need to cum so bloody bad.'

Sherlock began moving hard and fast, growling and grunting. He squeezed John's bollocks and ran his hand down his full length.

'Fuck! Close!'

'Cumming!' John cried, arching off the bed as he came hard, his entire body trembling with the force of it.

'Me too! Fuck!' Sherlock slammed himself into John hard and came. John pulled Sherlock down for a searing kiss, his tongue delving inside his mouth and down his throat. He rocked back against his angel's prick, begging for more.

'Don't stop. Still want you. Please.'

Sherlock hummed and picked up his pace again. 'What brought this on? Are you really feeling hormonal?'

'Yes, oooh. That's good,' John moaned, his hands clutching Sherlock's biceps tight. 'I-I think I may have blown it a bit out of proportion. Like your protectiveness. Now that I realise I'm... pregnant, I'm gonna think every little thing I feel is because of hormones, magnified ten fold because of the being inside me. Fuck! Right there! Fuck!'

'Do you feel OK though?' Sherlock asked, moving his hips in slow, circular movements. 'You don't feel strange? Like your body is trying to change because of the intrusion? I've heard it makes you feel a little ill in most angel cases. But you're human so... I don't know. And I was not blowing my protectiveness out of proportion, not when you're carrying such precious cargo.'

'All I can feel right now is your cock,' John groaned, his hands sliding down to squeeze Sherlock's bum and pull him in deeper. 'Ask me again when I'm not in the throes of passion.'

'Mmmf. Tell me if you feel anything other than very well fucked,' Sherlock groaned out as he began picking up his speed.

'Yes – god – promise – fuck!' John cried, tilting his hips up slightly so Sherlock could fuck him deeper. 'Just fuck me. Fuck me!'

'God – I'm – Fuck – cumming!' It hadn't taken Sherlock long to find his second release, his cock still highly sensitive.

John whimpered as he felt Sherlock softening inside him. 'Sherlock, love, please. I need to cum so bad. Suck me off. Swallow me, all of me. Please.'

'I – yes OK.' Sherlock pulled out of John and crawled down John's body, swallowing him whole. John gasped sharply and tangled his hands in Sherlock's hair, pushing him down to swallow him more.

'Oh my god! You have such a beautiful mouth! Oh god! Gonna– fuck!' He came with a shout and collapsed against the mattress, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

'Glad to hear it.' Sherlock swallowed and licked his lips before clambering on top of John protectively.

John hummed softly and snuggled against Sherlock, feeling quite sated and well fucked. His eyes fluttered shut as he neared sleep. He rubbed his nose against Sherlock's chest and sighed in content.

'Love you,' he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

'You– you do?' Sherlock gasped but John was already fast asleep. Feeling quite confused Sherlock hugged John tightly to him and watched him carefully for hours.

* * *

And here comes the mpreg. John is not a very happy pregnant teenager, but he starts to like it eventually. It just takes a while.

Next chapter sometime this week, but I'm not sure when.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

TSA + IB (still without Internet)


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